


Awake and Unafraid

by Green



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Claudia Stilinski, Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Beta Derek Hale, Car Accident, Human Scott McCall, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mates, Minor Character Deaths, Parallel Universes, Rebuilt Hale House, Spirit Guides, Spirits, original non-human characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 06:44:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3478334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green/pseuds/Green
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since the car accident that took one of his parents (or both, or neither), Stiles has been living two alternating parallel lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Awake and Unafraid

**Author's Note:**

> An Awake fusion, of sorts, with added werewolves, magic, spirits, and mate bonds. Somewhat inspired by [Awake](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1839683/) and also the Sherlock fic series [Watches 'Verse](http://archiveofourown.org/series/15213) by [bendingsignpost](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bendingsignpost/pseuds/bendingsignpost). 
> 
> this fic was started October 2012 and mostly completed by April 2013, with the exception of one scene. (I mean seriously, there's a scene where Stiles and Scott talk about how much they're looking forward to seeing CATWS when it comes out in theaters, okay? and it was total projection as I was feeling the same way at the time of writing.) I put off writing the scene for so long that I mostly forgot about the fic entirely. in addition, once the story was Jossed by 3a and I thought I should edit the story to fit with canon better, it seemed too daunting and I put off working on it even more. recently I decided 'to hell with it' and decided to write the missing scene and then post this fucker with all its myriad flaws and canon blips. I don't have the energy to fuss with it anymore, but I'm still fond enough to want to share it with fandom.
> 
> thanks go to apocryphal and reddwarfer for beta reading, and to majoline for beta reading AND handholding AND cheerleading AND for being one of the best friends I've ever had. <3

The last thing he remembers, before his entire world fractures into two pieces, is screaming.

Later, they will say it's normal to not remember the details of a traumatic event. Or to have muddled memories, especially with a head injury as severe as Stiles's.

But this is how it goes:

There is a crash, a car hitting their own. Pain and fear, screaming and reaching out for something.

Stiles hits his head. He opens his eyes and there is his mom, asking him if he's okay. She's frantic, turned around in her seat, blood on her face. Everything hurts and he can't answer. He closes his eyes. He opens his eyes and his dad is leaning over his mom, his voice broken. Mom's staring vacantly to the side. Stiles can only see the side of her face, but she's...

"Mom?" he whispers, and blinks slowly. His head hurts so badly.

"I'm right here, baby," she says, and it's so hard to focus. He leans forward in his seat, reaches out to his father. 

"Dad. It's okay," he says, holding onto his shoulder. "Mom's okay."

But Dad doesn't acknowledge him, doesn't move, doesn't even breathe.

He's dreaming. It's a nightmare. He closes his eyes and then Mom's gone again. He wants to wake up. He's got to quit closing his eyes. He's got to wake up.

* * *

He wakes up. His father is sitting beside his bed, his eyes open and red-rimmed. 

"Mom?" Stiles rasps. But he already knows. 

Dad shakes his head. His left arm is in a sling and he's got cuts all over his face. "I'm sorry," he says, like it's his fault.

* * *

But that was just a nightmare. When he wakes up, his mom is there, bandage on her head, holding his hand. 

He sits up, ignoring the pounding headache, and wraps his arms around her. Clings. Cries. Says, "Don't leave me."

She cries too. "I'm so sorry, baby, I'm so sorry," she says and Stiles knows, deep down, what's wrong here. Because Dad's not down the corridor getting coffee from one of the hospital's machines. He's not in the gift shop buying some ridiculous 'Get Well Soon' mylar balloons. 

Dad's gone, just like Mom was gone in his nightmare, but maybe if he doesn't ask Mom won't tell him. Won't make it real.

* * *

Stiles is a smart kid. He may only be eleven years old, but he's intelligent enough to understand that every time he sleeps he shifts over to the other place. It's so confusing at first, but no one notices if Stiles acts weird. He's grieving, people say. They look into his tired eyes (no sleep anymore, just this, just shifting from one reality to the other) and pity him.

He doesn't tell a single soul. He's afraid someone will find out. He's afraid he's crazy, really, and that if he tells someone, they'll find a way to cure him. And while this way of living is confusing and his body aches with exhaustion, at least he still has both his parents. 

He has panic attacks. His Dad thinks they're because he misses his mom so much, or because he's remembering the accident. Stiles has to go to a new doctor and gets little yellow pills. He lies to the doctor, cries a little without saying much at all, and flushes the medication one pill at a time.

Mom just holds him and helps him breathe through the attacks, tells him it's natural after everything they've been through, and doesn't make him see anyone for it. Instead, she decides they're moving in with her family back in Portland. Too many memories in the old house, she says.

Stiles is twelve when he moves away from Beacon Hills.

* * *

By the time he's thirteen, he has a whole system. He has a chunky memorial cuff made of stainless steel with his dad's name and dates on it. He buys it in a little shop in Portland and the weight of it is instantly comforting. Like here he's got his Dad with him, too.

The one he buys online one night in Beacon Hills is more slender, almost feminine, a bracelet with just Mom's initials engraved on the inside where Dad can't see. 

He never takes them off. Every time he wakes he looks to one of the bracelets for confirmation of where he is.

* * *

Portland is his favorite. He's surrounded by family and he's made friends at school. Mom misses Dad, but there's a whole healing process, something his Dad in the other place is having a harder time with. 

In Beacon Hills, Dad mourns, drinks more than he should, and works more than necessary just to keep his mind off things. Stiles is left alone a lot. It's depressing as hell compared to Portland, but at least Dad's _alive_ and Stiles knows his father loves him.

* * *

Everything changes when he turns sixteen.

* * *

He keeps the two worlds as separate as possible until he just can't stand it anymore. When the Alpha pack kills Jackson, that's the last straw. He knows then he's got to go to Beacon Hills and protect a pack that's not his own, but he feels fiercely protective of.

"Hey, Mom?" Stiles asks, after he's already packed and loaded up the Jeep. "I'm going on a little road trip." He says it as confidently as he can, not like he's asking permission. He's trying to exude maturity but of course his mother sees right through him. She almost always does.

She smiles, though. "It's your summer, and I assume you have enough for gas?"

"I've been saving for awhile," he answers. 

"I know," she says, and sighs. "Will you call me every day?"

" _Every_ day?" Stiles asks. "I'll try."

"If you run into trouble, just come straight home," his mom says.

"There won't be any trouble, it's just a road trip," Stiles says. Lies.

She looks at him for a long time. "You've grown up so fast. Especially lately." She rubs his head. "I just want you to be careful."

Stiles smiles at her. "I will be."

"Any idea where you're going?" she asks curiously. 

"I thought California," Stiles says, as nonchalant as possible.

She laughs. "Enjoy the sun."

* * *

On the drive there, he wonders a lot of things. Is Derek still the Alpha? Did Scott get bitten after all? Probably not without his interference. What about the others, and where is Peter? There are factors here he's barely considered.

He hopes Jackson's still alive in this reality. He misses the douchebag.

* * *

Along the way he picks up a crossbow, bolts, wolfsbane, and some other stuff he's researched in the past year. It's amazing what Oregon has to offer in the way of supernatural ammunition. He knows it'll make him smell dangerous to his wolves, but he has no other choice. He needs to be dangerous to survive and protect the pack.

The safest place to go first is to Deaton. 

The clinic is closed so Stiles goes to his house. When the door opens, Deaton takes one look at him and says, "I don't work with hunters."

Stiles hadn't realized he looked so badass. In Portland, he's restless a lot of the time. There are no creatures to chase or be chased by, no adrenaline rushing through his veins, so he's taken up rock climbing and track and has started hanging out in a boxing gym. It's all just a distraction, though Mom is content he has hobbies outside the internet and video games.

"I'm here to help the Hale pack," Stiles says. 

Deaton's eyebrows go up. "You are?"

Stiles sighs. "It's a long story, and I need a lot of help. Can you let me in?"

Deaton opens the door wider and gestures inside. Stiles feels a tingle as the wards let him him.

Once they're seated in the living room, Stiles takes a breath and says, "So basically, I'm from another dimension. And in that dimension, Derek's pack has just tangled with the Alpha pack for the first time and we lost someone. So I'm here to make sure nothing like that happens here."

"Derek's pack?" Deaton asks. "He's your Alpha?"

Stiles nods, hoping against hope that Deaton doesn't say-

"The Alpha here is Peter Hale," Deaton says, and Stiles groans. "Not what you were hoping for?"

"Pretty much a nightmare," Stiles grumbles. "How's he doing?"

Deaton makes a thoughtful noise. "He's strong, but unstable. Derek keeps him from following through with the worst of his plans, from what I know."

"And the pack? Who'd he bite?" Stiles asks, because it only makes sense that Peter would be building his pack.

"He left the choosing up to Derek, but I'm not sure who was turned. I've seen Derek with a couple of teenagers in town, but I have no proof. Yet," Deaton adds.

Stiles can guess who Derek chose. Erica and Isaac would be easy, and Boyd made a solid wolf.

"What about Scott? Is he..."

"Scott McCall?" Deaton asks. "He works at the clinic. He's human as me or you."

Scott never wanted the bite anyway, so this was maybe a good thing. He's a pretty faily werewolf in the other dimension anyway.

"One more thing," Stiles says. "The Argents — are they still around? Still alive?" Because if Peter was in control, he couldn't see them being allowed to live.

Deaton sighs. "Chris Argent and his daughter are still alive. They were both firmly against the Hale pack for awhile, but then they just up and left town a few weeks back."

Stiles takes a deep breath. He's here to help the pack, but it's Peter's pack, he's the Alpha. But does that really change anything? They're still his friends, even if they don't know him.

* * *

He beds down in his Jeep, making plans. He texts his mom, lets her know he's okay. Then he lets himself fall into sleep. Well, as close to sleep as he gets.

* * *

Jackson's funeral is huge. His parents don't spare any expense. Flowers fill every unoccupied space, and the pack sits at the back of the church. Stiles is next to Derek; no one else dares to get as close. The Alpha blames himself, this much is clear, and his mood has been even worse than usual. Stiles just wants Derek to know he isn't alone. 

Maybe Stiles loves him, a little. Not that he'll be sharing that information with anyone. And Derek would never feel the same way back, so the point is moot. It doesn't really matter, though. Love means taking care of and protecting people. Stiles has that down cold.

Lydia isn't crying at all. Her face looks frozen as the priest talks about eternal life beyond the grave or whatever. It hurts to look at her. 

Stiles fiddles with his mom's memorial bracelet and makes plans. He's got to be better, faster, smarter. What he learns in one place he can carry to the next. He's got two packs to look out for now, and he's not losing anyone else.

After the funeral, the pack gathers back at the old train station. Erica and Isaac growl at each other over nothing in particular, and Boyd ends up pulling Erica away and holding her. Stiles looks away. He wishes he could do more. Scott hesitantly goes over to Isaac and they disappear into the train car. Without super hearing, there's no telling what they talk about. Lydia huffs and she and Allison, with a parting hug to Stiles, leave for home. There's not a lot they can do.

Peter didn't go to the funeral, and he's nowhere to be seen. In fact, Stiles hasn't heard anything about him since the night Jackson died. That leaves Stiles and Derek. They sit awkwardly on their battered couch, too far away from each other to be touching. Still, Stiles wants him to know he's there for him.

"Why are you still here, Stiles?" Derek asks. He's staring straight ahead and sounds tired. Just tired.

Stiles shrugs and doesn't answer. "Have you eaten?"

Derek turns. He looks lost. "Not today."

When his dad died in the other place, he and his mom went out to eat after the memorial service. They didn't make it to the wake. They talked about his dad and how great he was, and it was good. Painful, but good. Stiles isn't sure Derek needs that, but he needs something. 

"Let's go get pizza," Stiles says. "I'm paying."

The others don't offer to come with. Stiles figures they have their own ways of grieving, so he lets them stay. Derek struggles a little and argues that they shouldn't leave the station with the Alpha pack out there, but it's broad daylight outside and Stiles promises they'll be fine.

Nothing bad happens. 

Derek eats his pizza in silence while Stiles talks about Jackson. A few times Derek's mouth quirks up a little and Stiles counts it as a win.

"It's not your fault," Stiles says when they're finishing up. "It's them. The Alpha pack. Let's just focus on getting rid of them, okay?"

Derek looks up and nods. His voice is low and terse when he answers. "We'll kill them all."

* * *

In the other Beacon Hills, he doesn't know how to approach Peter-the-Alpha. He doesn't know how to gain his trust. The Peter from before his resurrection was insane and distrusting. 

He realizes he doesn't even know where to find the pack. He stops by the old train station but it's empty. He figures he might make it his own base; it's safe enough.

He visits Deaton again to ask advice, but he's not in the clinic. Instead, Scott is there. But this Scott is not Stiles's best friend, and he needs to remember that.

"Do you know where he is?" Stiles asks. He tries to keep his voice polite and not overly familiar.

Scott shrugs. "I think he went to Ms. Morrell's."

"The guidance counselor?" Stiles asks. Then he remembers he's not supposed to know anyone.

Scott doesn't seem to notice. "Yeah." He goes back to sorting bottles of flea dip or whatever he's doing.

"You probably don't remember me," Stiles says hesitantly. It's so weird not to get the whole BFF vibe from Scott, even if it's a Scott he barely knows.

Scott turns back to Stiles and frowns. "Uh..."

"Stiles Stilinski." Stiles holds his hands out in a 'ta-da!' gesture and Scott's face clears.

"Oh, _dude_ ," Scott says. "I haven't seen you since, what, fifth grade? Fourth?"

"I knew you wouldn't forget me, man," Stiles says with a grin. 

"What are you doing back in Beacon Hills? Did your mom get a job back here?" Scott asks.

Stiles shakes his head. "I'm visiting. Mom's in Portland."

"We should hang out while you're here," Scott says. "Do you like COD?"

Stiles grins. "Yeah, and I'm sure I could show you a few things."

Scott scoffs. "I'm the master."

"Sure, just like you were the master at Mario Kart?" Stiles says with a laugh. 

"My hand-eye coordination has improved in the past five years, you'll see!"

Stiles laughs again and when he's done, he gets Scott's number into his phone and promises they'll make a bro date. Then it's time to go.

He has no clue where Ms. Morrell lives. There's a lot of things he doesn't know. His skin is itchy, too tight; he needs to do something. Seeing Scott was great, but now he's anxious. He goes for a run.

He's not even thinking of running into someone he knows in the woods. But there, out of nowhere, is a familiar figure standing in his path. Stiles comes to a stop and nods his head in greeting.

"This is private property," Derek says.

"I know," Stiles says, forcing down a hysterical laugh. "I wasn't thinking I'd get caught." Though really, it's good luck. Now he can figure out a way to get in with Derek and the pack.

Derek stalks closer. "We don't like people on our land."

"I'm not just people. I'm Stiles." 

"That's not a real name," Derek says.

"It's mine," Stiles says. 

Derek subtly scents the air, but Stiles totally knows what he's doing. "You're from out of town. What are you doing in Beacon Hills?"

Stiles takes a deep breath. "I'm here to help y-... the Hale pack."

Derek raises his thick eyebrows. "Is that so."

"Derek," Stiles starts to say, but then Derek is on him. Stiles's back hits the solid ground so hard it takes his breath, and Derek pins him there, his eyes glowing blue. Blue. Right. He's a beta in this world.

"How do you know about us?" Derek growls. "Are you a hunter? How many of you are there?"

Stiles wheezes. "Dude. Chill out a minute."

" _Answer me_ ," Derek says.

"Listen to my heartbeat and tell me if I'm lying," Stiles says slowly. "I'm _no danger_ to you or your pack. I'm here to help."

Derek's grip loosens a little. "How can you help?"

Stiles gives him a lopsided smile. "I haven't figured that out yet."

Derek huffs and lets him up. "You aren't lying."

"I don't lie to people I... well, I don't lie often. Not when I can help it," Stiles says. Derek looks like he doesn't believe him. Stiles thinks of all the lies he's told his father since Scott got bit, thinks of the lies he's told everyone to keep the two worlds a secret... "Okay, I lie a lot. But only because I have to." They're walking in one direction, and Stiles stops. "Wait, where're we going?"

"To the house," Derek says.

The old Hale house? "Is it fixed up?" Stiles asks. "'Cause there's no way I'm setting foot inside a deathtrap. Human here, pretty fragile when it comes to falling through floors."

Derek gives him a strange look. "It's been finished for two months."

"Oh. Good," Stiles says.

Derek grabs him by the back of the neck and pushes him further into the woods, ahead of him. 

"Hey! You don't have to be so handsy."

"You don't mind," Derek says. Stiles looks back at him and he's smirking. Bastard.

"Sniffed that out, didya?" Stiles says, his face heating. "Well, it doesn't mean anything and don't start thinking it does."

"Liar," Derek says.

Yeah, that's exactly what Stiles is. The pants on fire kind. But wait, is Derek flirting? That's... new. There's something about this Derek that Stiles can't quite put his finger on. This requires more field research.

The house comes into view, and Stiles has to stop and take it in. It looks good, homey. 

He knows better than to relax, though.

Peter is waiting at the door. Stiles's heart lurches at the sight of him. He knows the werewolves will be able to hear his distress, but he can't seem to help it.

"And what do we have here?" Peter asks mildly.

"He was on our land. He says he wants to help," Derek says.

Stiles swallows, thinks about how maybe here he can save someone. That maybe he won't have to attend any more funerals. "I'm Stiles," he says.

Peter smiles, not warm at all. "Come in, Stiles."

Surely it can't be that easy. He touches the memorial bracelet on his wrist out of habit. Peter's eyes follow the gesture. Peter never misses anything. Maybe he'll figure it out. _It_ being everything, the dimension hopping, the insane life that Stiles calls his own.

He laughs inside his head. That will never happen. No one is like him, as far as he can tell, and no one would ever guess it as an actual thing that could happen.

Stiles follows Peter inside. Thinks about his own Peter, how he's slightly saner since his resurrection, how Derek let him back into the pack.

But this Peter is an unknown quantity. Stiles is... wary. Yes. Not _terrified_ (though he probably should be) but he's definitely going to watch himself around him.

Stiles is offered a chair. He sits obediently. Clears his throat. Glances from Peter to Derek, wondering what kind of agreement they've come to. Mostly, he waits for the interrogation to start. 

He still doesn't have a fucking clue what he's going to say.

"Stiles," Peter says, rolling the name on his tongue like he's tasting it. It gives Stiles a shiver.

"That's me," Stiles says weakly. He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. "I know you can tell when I'm lying, so ask anything you want. I'll be as honest as I can."

Derek is frowning but Peter is watching him with a small smile. "How do you know about us?"

Okay, time to skirt the truth. To be honest without giving it all away. "My best friend is a werewolf. After he was bitten, I did a lot of research. I found out about the Hales. I learned about the Alpha pack, and the danger they pose." So far, so good. Not a single lie. "I came here to help your pack."

Peter watches him like a hawk watches a field mouse, and Stiles knows both Hales have been listening to his steady heartbeat. Derek says, "But you said you don't know how you can help."

"I know a lot, I've done a lot of research," Stiles says slowly. "I'm good at that. And I'm learning magic, too. I'm not very far along in my training, but if you give me some time I know I'll be an asset."

"Anything else?" Peter says.

"I'd be _loyal_ ," Stiles says. It's a gamble, but it's also the truth. And Stiles's loyalty is worth more than it sounds like — threaten someone Stiles cares about and the gloves come off. He can be vicious when it comes to taking care of his own.

Maybe Peter can hear that in his voice. "Do you want the bite? Is that why you've come to me?"

Stiles shivers slightly and knows Peter sees it. It's time to skirt the truth again. "It's been offered to me before and I turned it down."

If Peter presses, Stiles will have to tell the truth. But he doesn't ask the _Why_ that's hanging in the air, and Stiles breathes a little easier.

Peter and Derek look at each other, and Stiles can't help but squirm a little. 

Derek asks, "Can anyone vouch for you? Another pack?" In other words, where do his true interests lie?

"Alan Deaton knows me," Stiles says. "I don't owe loyalty to any other pack but the Hales."

Peter's eyes seem to glow at that, and Stiles wonders if he'd said too much, too soon. 

In his pocket, Stiles's phone vibrates. He's sure it's his mom.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" Peter asks. Which is basically a command.

Stiles answers. And listens. And says cheerfully, "Hey, kinda in the middle of something right now, but I'll call you back. I'm _fine_. Okay. Love you, too."

His mother doesn't understand. He doesn't expect her to. She's never seen this part of his life, was never alive to get involved. He'll keep her away, though. Where it's safe.

She's always been the more permissive parent — with purpose, not neglect. She's the one who wants him to follow his heart, which is exactly what he's doing.

After he hangs up, he turns it off so she doesn't interrupt him again. He loves her, but at the moment this is more important.

"Where are you from?" Peter asks.

Stiles grins. "Here and there." It's funny because it's true.

* * *

He falls asleep in Beacon Hills and wakes up in Beacon Hills. It's a change, but he thinks it's for the best. He fiddles with the thin memorial bracelet on his wrist until he hears his dad downstairs. He goes down but his dad is already halfway out the door. Going to work. 

"Bye," Stiles says, but he doubts he's heard.

Today he's going to Deaton. On the drive over, he wonders what he will tell him. He told the other Deaton the truth about the shifting, but he doesn't want to spread it around too much. Not yet.

"I need to learn more magic," he tells Deaton. "Things that will help against the Alpha pack."

Deaton looks at him, or through him, and says, "You've always had a very interesting aura, Stiles."

"Interesting how?" Stiles asks. He's never thought of this. His soul or energy or _whatever_ crosses to a separate reality on a regular basis. Is it bad for him? Is he slowly killing himself?

"Strong," Deaton says. "An aura is usually faint, something that only the trained can see. But yours... I wouldn't be surprised if a layperson could detect it if they focused."

Stiles makes a mental note to ask the other Deaton what his aura looks like in the other reality, but he's pretty sure it will be the same. "So what does my aura have to do with magic?"

"It tells me you have potential, but also that your energies are split as it flickers in and out," Deaton says.

"Is the flickering a bad thing?" Stiles asks.

"Not necessarily, just... odd," Deaton says. "And it could affect the way you approach magic."

"How?" Stiles asks.

Deaton rummages through a drawer and pulls out a short white candle. "Some magic comes in bursts," he says, and the candle seems to light itself. "It requires some concentration but not a lot of energy." He whispers something under his breath and blows the candle out. "Other magic takes rituals to raise more energy, and you can do bigger things."

"So my energy isn't stable, is that what you're saying? And I'll need to find the right way to channel it if I use magic?" Stiles asks.

"I've never seen anything like your energy, so I don't know what will work. I suggest we try different things," Deaton says. "If you're serious about learning magic, that is. This might be difficult."

"I'm serious," Stiles says. "And I need to learn as much as possible. As soon as possible."

"Manipulating magic is something one achieves after years of training," Deaton says. "If I take you on as my apprentice, you will have to learn at the pace I set for you."

"I can't afford to go slow," Stiles says, frustrated now. "The Alpha pack is going to attack again, and I need to be ready. I can't let anything happen to the pack."

"The safety of the pack is not your responsibility," Deaton says mildly.

Stiles bites his lip. "If I can prevent someone else's death, or keep the pack from getting hurt, then I need to do that. I need to learn."

"There are reasons for going slow in a magical education. You need to accustom yourself to channeling energy, but — more importantly — learn responsibility and patience," Deaton says. "This is for your own good."

"I get that, I totally get that," Stiles says. "And in any other situation, I'd be agreeing with you. But this is life and death."

"You'll find that it's almost always 'life and death' when it comes to the supernatural world," Deaton says wryly.

Stiles grits his teeth. "Someone is already dead. Derek and the pack can't lose anyone else."

"I won't rush your education. I'll teach you twice a week-"

"No, that's not enough," Stiles says, shaking his head.

Deaton gives him a mild look. " _Twice a week_ , two hours at a time. Longer, if you can stand it."

"What about just teaching me? Not magic per se, just things _about_ magic? Herbs and rituals, stuff you can teach me without the practical expending energy bits? Like theory." Stiles asks.

Deaton sighs. "I don't have unlimited time. But... we'll see."

Stiles grins for the first time since the conversation started. "Thanks, Doc. When do we start?"

"Tomorrow, at noon. My house. Bring a new notebook. You'll be keeping it for a long time, so something sturdy with a lot of pages."

Oh. Knowledge is one thing, but he can't exactly take a notebook with him when he flips to the other reality. He'll have to study immensely hard and somehow duplicate the notes in the other reality. And if he starts learning magic there, too, he'll have to do the same in the other direction. 

He can do it, though. He has to.

When he leaves Deaton's, he heads to the train depot. He finds Derek there, along with Isaac, Boyd, and Erica. Scott isn't present. 

Oddly enough, Derek is moving boxes around. 

"Hey," Stiles says. "What're you doing?"

"Moving," Derek says.

"To?" Stiles asks.

"A house outside of town," Derek says. He looks uncomfortable for a moment. "I almost rented a loft."

Stiles can fill in the rest. "But there wasn't enough room there for the pups. Gotcha."

Derek looks up, raising his eyebrows. Like he's surprised that Stiles understands.

Stiles flushes and shrugs. "Put some boxes in the Jeep and I'll follow you over there."

The new place isn't exactly sprawling, and it isn't as big as the Hale house, but it's homey and large enough for the pack. After they've got all the boxes inside, Stiles looks around curiously. It's a nice house. Stiles is happy that Derek is going to be living in a real house like a real boy. He might say that to Derek at some point. Derek's lips twitch even as he tries to maintain his trademark scowl.

"You need furniture," Stiles says. "A couple of couches and some beds, to start with."

Derek agrees. "I'll pick you up tomorrow morning."

Stiles frowns. "What do you need _me_ for?"

"Furniture shopping is your idea," Derek says. "So you get to come along."

Not that Stiles is complaining about spending more time with Derek. "Okay, just as long as we're done by noon. I've got my first magic lesson with Deaton tomorrow."

Derek startles. "You're learning magic?"

Stiles shrugs. "I've gotta do something for the pack. I'm tired of being the useless human."

Derek looks angry. His eyes glow red and he gets up in Stiles's space. "You aren't useless."

It's been awhile since Stiles has been afraid of Derek, and he knows Derek's not about to hurt him. Instead of getting scared, Stiles flushes with pleasure at the up-close-and-personal thing that's going on right now, and he licks his lips unconsciously. Derek's eyes are on his mouth, and Stiles wonders if now... 

No. Derek's had plenty of opportunities to take their relationship beyond allies and sorta-almost-maybe-friends. He's never done it. He doesn't want to. Stiles can live with that.

"Fine," Stiles says quietly. "Not useless. I just... I feel like I could do more, though. And if I learn magic, I can."

"Is it dangerous?" Derek asks, still close enough that Stiles can feel his breath on his face.

Stiles shakes his head, unable to tear his gaze away. Derek's eyes are clear hazel, human and almost vulnerable. Stiles aches with longing. It's a ridiculous phrase to even think, but not nearly as ridiculous as the pining itself.

Stiles pushes at Derek's chest, eager to put some space between them. "You don't intimidate me anymore, you know," he says. "So quit that."

Derek moves away, his expression unreadable.

"I've gotta go," Stiles mutters. His heart can't take any more contact with Derek today.

"I'll pick you up in the morning, eight-thirty ," Derek reminds him.

Stiles nods and practically flees.

Before he falls asleep that night, he finds a moleskin notebook that will work for magical note taking. He reminds himself to get one in the other reality, too. When he falls asleep, it's to thoughts of Derek, and for a moment he thinks he might dream.

* * *

He doesn't dream. He never dreams.

He wakes in an unfamiliar place and checks his memorial bracelet, which is thick and clunky. Beacon Hills v.2.0, then. He looks around the room, taking in his surroundings. It's Peter's renovated Hale house. It's nice. Comfortable. 

He smells coffee but before he can roll out of bed and get dressed, his door is opening and Derek is strolling in as if he belongs there. He's dressed in jeans and a black henley, no shoes. Stiles can't remember ever seeing Derek barefoot before. It's strangely sexy and Stiles has to tear his eyes away from Derek's toes to look at his face.

"Morning," Stiles says.

"It's afternoon. Peter let you sleep in," Derek says, and he sounds like he disapproves.

"I need to go into town," Stiles says, rolling out of bed and pulling on jeans. Derek doesn't look away. He seems to be focused entirely on Stiles's body, which is flattering, but disconcerting. He doesn't know this Derek. Doesn't feel the same way about him as the other Derek. He sighs. It's complicated.

"What's wrong?" Derek asks, following Stiles's movements with his eyes as Stiles pulls on a shirt.

"Just thinking. It's not important," Stiles says. His stomach growls and he winces.

"You need to eat," Derek says.

Stiles doesn't remember the last time he ate something in this reality. It's a good idea. He nods. "Okay. Then... can you take me to my Jeep?"

Derek nods. "Are you coming right back?"

"I have to buy something in town and talk to Deaton," Stiles says. "I shouldn't be long."

"I'll go with you," Derek says.

Stiles blinks, then realizes Peter and Derek don't trust him yet. It makes sense. "Okay."

Lunch is turkey and cheese with lettuce and tomato. Stiles eats two sandwiches and downs a glass of milk with them.

Derek watches him lick the mayo off his fingers and Stiles grins. "Thanks. I can't tell you how hungry I was."

A little later, Derek drives him to town and Stiles picks up a nice thick notebook and some pens and mechanical pencils. Then Derek takes him to Deaton's. 

"Can you stay in the car for this one?" Stiles asks Derek.

Derek looks suspicious, but he nods.

"I don't know how long I'll be," Stiles says.

"I can wait," Derek says. Stiles nods. 

Inside, Deaton greets him like he's been waiting for him. "Stiles."

"Hey, doc," Stiles says with a smile. "I brought a notebook. The other Deaton said it was a good idea if you're going to be teaching me things."

Deaton's shakes his head like he can't believe it and then he nods. "That makes sense. The first thing I'll teach you is how to ward it from prying eyes."

"That sounds pretty complicated for a first spell," Stiles says nervously. "And the other Deaton said he wasn't sure what kind of magic I could use, because of my flickering energy."

"Does he know about your... peculiar life?" Deaton asks.

"The reality thing? No," Stiles says. "There's been no reason to tell him."

Deaton nods. "It's an option. It might help with your training."

Stiles nods. He'll take all the help he can get. "So... can I do this warding stuff? With my energy the way it is?"

"You only need to learn a few runes for this," Deaton says. "There are ways to make the warding stronger, but that's something you can learn later."

"What about other wards? For things bigger than notebooks?" Stiles asks.

"It depends on the purpose of the ward," Deaton says.

"Protection," Stiles says. "I want to be able to ward the Hale house, and Derek's house in the other Beacon Hills."

"You have to understand more about magic before you can do those kinds of workings," Deaton says.

"Will you teach me that next?" Stiles asks. "I need to know."

"Why do you care so much about these packs?" Deaton asks. "You're human, you have no bond to them."

"They're my friends," Stiles says with a shrug. "I just... I've always..." He trails off, unable to articulate the way he feels.

"I suggest you think about your reasons," Deaton says. "Having solid belief will make your magic stronger."

Stiles nods. He'll think about it, then.

Deaton pulls a book off its shelf and opens it to a certain page without looking. Stiles wonders if that's magic or if he's just lucky. 

"This is the rune you need to learn today," Deaton says, showing him the page. "It means 'evasion' or 'invisibility'. Applied to your notebook, it will make most people's eyes slide right off whatever is on the page, making them think nothing is there."

"Like a Disillusionment Charm?" Stiles asks.

Deaton purses his lips. "If you must use _Harry Potter_ for a reference, then yes."

"You knew what I meant, though," Stiles points out, grinning.

"Please. Everyone's read _Harry Potter_."

Stiles laughs and gets down to learning. He picks it up quickly, taking a few notes but memorizing them at the same time for the other notebook, and soon Deaton declares his book warded against snoops. Stiles grins and grins.

He's in a good mood when he gets into Derek's Camaro. Derek raises an eyebrow at him and Stiles hands him his notebook. "Try to read this."

Derek takes the notebook and opens it to the first page with the rune notes. Then he starts flipping through it. "There's nothing here."

Stiles laughs. "It's awesome, isn't it? I created a ward. I _rock_."

Derek frowns at him and hands the notebook back. "You're a little weird."

"I'm magical," Stiles says. "Can you smell it? The magic?"

Derek takes this as an opportunity to get up in his space and inhale deeply. He stays there, his body giving off heat that Stiles can feel through his clothes. This Derek isn't his Derek, he has to remind himself. There's no reason to react the way he is, with nervous anticipation and arousal.

"Well?" Stiles asks, as if he's not half hard. He does sound a bit breathless, though.

Derek lifts his head and looks at Stiles, then smiles like a predator. Stiles feels caught. He also has a vague realization that this Derek is closer to his wolf than the other reality's. He's not sure what that will mean for him, if anything. He just needs to keep it in mind.

"You smell good," Derek says, and Stiles has to blush. His other Derek never said anything like this. 

"I need a shower," Stiles says. He hasn't had one since he left his mom's. "Will you take me to my Jeep now?" He tells Derek where it is and Derek drives him there.

Back at the Hale house, Stiles puts his clothes away in 'his' room, leaving the anti-werewolf supplies in the Jeep. After a shower and putting on clean clothes, he goes to find Peter.

He doesn't trust Peter. Not this one and not the other reality's resurrected Peter, either. But Stiles has to protect the pack, and in this world Peter is the head of the pack.

Looking for Peter, he comes across the family room, and in it are Erica and Boyd. They're leaning against each other on the sofa and Stiles smiles. Some things don't change. They look up at Stiles and their eyes glow. 

"Oh, um, sorry? Didn't mean to interrupt snuggle time, but do you know where Peter is?" Stiles asks.

Boyd says, "Library," and gives directions. Stiles nods and leaves them alone.

Stiles enters the library and finds Peter waiting for him. Stiles looks at the barren shelves and controls a wince. The Hales must have lost so much in the fire. 

"I can help you find rare books, if you're in the market," Stiles says.

"Some things cannot be replaced," Peter says, and sighs. "Hundreds of years of family history, for instance."

"I'm sorry," Stiles says honestly. He _is_ sorry Peter lost so much. It didn't give him the right to turn murderer, but it is still sad.

Peter narrows his eyes at him, then waves a hand at a chair. "Sit."

"Thanks," Stiles mumbles, sitting down. 

"You went to town today for a magic lesson?" Peter asks.

Stiles nods. "Deaton is taking me as his apprentice."

Peters eyes are calculating. "He has never done that before, as far as I know."

"I'm special," Stiles says flippantly, and smiles.

"Do you want to be a part of this pack?" Peter asks.

"What, like, full membership?" He's a part of Derek's pack in the other world, but it took a long time for Derek to tell him point-blank that he belonged. He doesn't know what being part of the pack in this reality would entail.

"Yes," Peter says. 

"What would I have to do?" Stiles asks.

"There are several ways to become pack," Peter says. "I could give you the bite-"

"No," Stiles says, his heart thudding in his chest at the suggestion.

"Let me finish," Peter says. "The bite, or you could make a blood vow to me-"

Stiles shifts uncomfortably in his chair. He'd make a vow to Derek, but not Peter.

"You could be the mate to me or one of my betas," Peter says.

Stiles thinks of Derek and his heart gives an almost painful thud.

Peter smiles. "As well as I know I'm a catch, I'm sure I don't make your heart do that. So who is it? Erica? She's a beauty. Feisty, too."

"Are you seriously trying to pimp out your wolves?" Stiles asks, disgusted.

There's a knock on the door and Peter says, "Come in."

Derek walks in and Stiles's heart picks up again. 

"Ah," Peter says, giving Stiles a knowing look. Stiles looks down at his hands in his lap so he doesn't glare daggers at the man in charge.

"It's happened again," Derek says. 

Peter tilts his head and looks confused.

Derek glances at Stiles like he's deliberating speaking in his presence. Then he looks at Peter again and says, "It's the Lahey boy. He's in the hospital this time."

Stiles sucks in a breath. Isaac in the hospital, not a wolf, his father must have-

"I told you, we have a full house as it is," Peter says. He has three betas, that must be all he needs for a stable pack. "I let you choose the other two."

" _Peter_ ," Derek says. He doesn't beg, but he puts a lot of feeling into the word.

Peter huffs, then stands. "Alright. But you have to walk him and feed him."

Stiles is relieved, glad Isaac will be safe soon. Derek looks at him strangely when Stiles smiles at him.

"I have something to discuss with you anyway, nephew. We may as well talk on the way to the hospital," Peter says, looking between Stiles and Derek with intent.

Stiles is confused for a moment until he realizes Peter is going to ask Derek if he would mind being mated with Stiles. Or at least that's what Stiles thinks will happen.

"Derek? Can I... talk to you first?" Stiles asks tentatively.

Peter snorts. "I'll be in the car. Hurry up." And then he's out the door.

Derek looks at Stiles curiously. "What?"

"He wants me in the pack," Stiles says, looking at his hands. "He said I could mate with one of you."

Derek sets his jaw. "Is that what you want?"

"I barely know you," Stiles says. His heart is probably tripping over that one.

Derek tilts his head. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you should have a choice," Stiles says. "Don't... don't do anything just because your Alpha tells you to. Especially not Peter."

"Why? What do you have against Peter?" Derek asks suspiciously.

_Oh, besides the fact that he murdered your sister in cold blood? Not much._ "I don't trust him." Truth.

"But you trust me?" Derek says.

Stiles swallows. "Yes." Another truth. He shouldn't, not this Derek, but after seeing how he cares for Isaac, wants Peter to turn him and get him out of a bad situation, Stiles can't help but fall a little in love with him. It's too soon, he knows, but it's _Derek_.

Derek pulls Stiles close to him, sniffing his neck. "You don't smell free of deception."

Shit. "There are things I can't tell you, that are my own... my own issues. But I do trust you, Derek. And you can trust me."

Derek snorts. "I don't know you."

It hurts, but it's the truth. "Go. Bring Isaac back safe."

Derek narrows his eyes. "I never said his name."

Stiles smiles sadly. "One of those things I can't explain."

"Do you have the Sight?" Derek asks.

"In a way," Stiles says. "Not exactly."

Outside, a horn blows. Peter is impatient. 

"You're going to tell me everything," Derek says, hesitating.

"One day, I promise I will," Stiles swears.

Derek nods at that, and then he leaves.

Stiles goes upstairs to make a room ready for Isaac. He's not sure how fast the bite will work and if he'll be well enough to come home tonight or if it will be tomorrow.

He hopes Mr. Lahey has been dealt with by the authorities. He pulls out his phone to call his dad and then he remembers his father is dead in this reality. The resulting ache is painful.

He goes into his room when a spare room looks welcoming enough for the new beta, touching his notebook — he's gonna call it his spellbook from now on — before lying down on his soft pillow. He shouldn't sleep. He knows it'll just make him wake in the other place, and he has so much more to do here. 

But he's bone weary, and he can't stand against the pull that's dragging him down.

* * *

He wakes to the sound of his phone going off. He checks the caller-ID. It's Derek.

"'lo?" Stiles mumbles into the phone.

"Get up, I'm here to get you. Shopping, remember?"

How could Stiles have forgotten? He's always jumping at the chance to spend time alone with Derek. "Yeah, okay. Five minutes."

He hangs up and goes into the bathroom. Takes a piss, brushes his teeth, washes his face. Gets back to his room and gets dressed. At the last minute he remembers to bring his empty moleskine spellbook. 

He's out the door and climbing into the Camaro before he knows it.

"Here," Derek says, handing over a cup of coffee. Stiles takes a sip and it's just how he likes it, sweet and creamy.

"Thanks." This Derek knows exactly how he takes his coffee. This Derek is more his than the other one. So why is he considering becoming the other Derek's mate? He puts his coffee in the cup holder, grabs a pen, and starts scribbling notes in his spellbook, everything he can remember from the last lesson. He thinks he has the rune down right, and the spellbook _should_ be properly warded.

Derek makes a face and opens the window. "You're doing magic in my car?"

"So you _can_ smell it. What's it smell like? Bad?" Stiles asks. The other Derek didn't seem to be offended by the scent of his magic.

"Not bad, just strong. There," Derek says, closing the window again. "It smells like you and ozone."

"Like me?" Stiles asks. 

"Well, it's _your_ magic, it makes sense that it smells like you," Derek points out. He pulls up in front of the large furniture store and parks. 

"Can you read this?" Stiles asks, showing Derek the page he's written in his spellbook.

Derek gives him a look. "No. It's blank."

Stiles grins. "Nope, I'm just that good."

"Did Deaton teach you that?" Derek asks.

"Yep," Stiles says, even though in this reality he hasn't had his first lesson. Luckily, Derek doesn't catch that.

The first thing to pick out in the store is a couch. Make that two couches. It's hard to decide between fabric upholstery and leather. They both have their pros and cons, which Stiles recounts to Derek. Claws and blood feature heavily in his argument.

They decide on comfortable scotch-guarded fabric couches in a color close to espresso. Then they pick out beds.

Stiles tests out the mattresses while Derek looks grumpy. "C'mon, you try this one," Stiles says, scooting over to the side of one of the mattresses. "It's like lying on a cloud, only it has firm lumbar support beneath the pillow top."

"I don't need a cloud," Derek says, but he sits on the other side of the bed, bouncing slightly to test it.

"Lie down," Stiles says.

Derek frowns but does what Stiles requests. It suddenly hits Stiles how _domestic_ today's shopping is. A little part of him aches and wishes it was more real. 

Stiles blinks when he notices how close Derek's face is to his own. They're lying face to face on the mattress, close enough to touch. They could even kiss if they'd just lean in a little more...

"I like this," Derek says, and Stiles holds his breath. He lets it out again when Derek says, "I think I'll get this one."

"Right," Stiles says. "Good choice."

Together they pick out headboards and dressers for Derek and the betas, and then Stiles notices how late it's getting. He mentions it to Derek and receives a nod, then Derek is talking to a saleswoman about next-day delivery and handing over his credit card.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Stiles asks as Derek is dropping him off at Deaton's. 

"You can come over whenever you want," Derek tells him.

"Now you'll never get rid of me," Stiles says with a smile.

Derek smirks. "Go on. It's noon. Deaton will be waiting for you."

Stiles grabs his spellbook and nods, then gets out.

Derek doesn't drive away until after Stiles is inside.

Deaton takes one look at his spellbook and blinks. "You've already warded it?"

"You can tell?" Stiles asks. "Can you see magic or something?"

"I can see energy, and I can tell you've recently worked on this," Deaton says.

"Will you teach me how to see energy? And auras? Not yet, though. I want to learn more practical things first," Stiles says quickly.

"How did you learn the warding?" Deaton asks. "I was going to teach it to you today."

Stiles bites his lip. The other Deaton said telling him was a good idea, so. Here goes. "Well," he says, and launches into what he knows sounds like the craziest explanation ever. It's the truth, though. He tells Deaton everything he can think of about the two realities, and about how he's learning magic in both places now.

"So you'll be learning twice as quickly?" Deaton asks. Stiles wonders how both Deatons can take things like 'jumping realities' so easily. He must have seen all sorts of things in his life, so that nothing surprises him. "I don't know how I feel about this. You need to learn patience and magical responsibility."

"Doc, the Alpha pack is coming," Stiles says. "No, they're here. They're here and I've got to do something."

"Have you thought about why the pack is so important to you?" Deaton asks.

"You- the other Deaton says I should come up with solid belief," Stiles says. "Is that why you're asking?"

"The stronger your convictions the stronger your belief, yes. Your magic will benefit from that," Deaton says.

"What about love?" Stiles asks softly. "Will love make my magic stronger?"

Deaton smiles. "Love has a magic all its own."

"I love my pack," Stiles says firmly. "We're family."

"And the other pack? Peter's pack?" Deaton asks.

Stiles bites his lip. "It's complicated."

"Are you conflicted?" Deaton asks. "That will make your magic... iffy."

"Iffy? Is that the technical term?"

"Sporadic," Deaton clarifies. "Weaker."

Stiles thinks of Derek, of the other Derek, who smiles like Stiles is prey and cares about Isaac enough to convince his uncle to bite him. Who might become his mate. 

"So I'm like a werewolf in that I need an anchor?" Stiles asks.

"Almost exactly so," Deaton says. "That's a good way to look at it."

Stiles nods thoughtfully. Derek in the other reality can't be his anchor. Not yet. They don't trust each other. But this Derek? This one will keep him balanced and strong.

"Does my anchor have to be two different things in the separate realities?" Stiles asks.

"Your reason for using magic is different in different places, isn't it? It's for your pack here, and for a different pack there," Deaton points out. "You should choose a reason in each place. Something substantial."

"Here is easy," Stiles says, thinking of Derek. "There? Not so much."

"You might find yourself doing better in this reality, then," Deaton says. "Maybe you could learn one kind of magic here and another there. Or practical magic here and more of the theory there."

"I'll ask the other Deaton about it," Stiles says.

"Just something to think about," Deaton says. "Now. I'm sure you want to get on with today's lesson."

"Yeah. What are we doing?"

"Reaching out to the spirit world," Deaton says. "If you're going to practice magic, you're going to need their help."

Stiles almost starts laughing until he realizes Deaton is serious. "Will this help me protect the pack?" Stiles asks skeptically. 

Deaton looks like he's thinking. "Perhaps the guardian of the local forest is who you should ask about that. But I wouldn't recommend you try until you've familiarized yourself with the basic rites and customs. Meeting a friendlier, more patient spirit is better for your first time."

"Okay. What do I have to do first?" Stiles asks.

"You and I will draw a circle and I'll guide you through a mediation," Deaton says. "You need to learn how to make the circle, first." He gets a book from his shelf and opens it, but this time he has to flip through to find what he's looking for. When he looks satisfied, he hands it over. "Study this."

After a few minutes, Stiles asks, "Are we making a circle for the both of us, or just me?"

Deaton smiles like he's proud Stiles thought to ask. "Both of us, this time. When you get to the other reality, learn to make a solitary circle."

Stiles nods and gets back to studying. Deaton brings him a sandwich.

An hour later, he thinks he's got it. He repeats what he's learned to Deaton and the man nods along. 

"Good. Time for a field trip," Deaton says, and then Stiles finds himself in Deaton's car as they head out toward the preserve.

As they make the circle and pay their respects to each of the four directions, Stiles begins to feel the energy build up. It's odd at first, but then he feels stronger. More alert, more _alive_. He looks at Deaton, wondering if he feels it too. Deaton gives him a smile and then sits and gestures for Stiles to do the same.

Deaton begins the meditation.

Stiles isn't sure what he was expecting, but this slow, even speech that guides him down is not it. He's relaxed, but not asleep. 

Images float across his mind. Again and again he sees a black wolf. _Derek_ he thinks. Other wolves join the black one, and Stiles smiles to himself. The pack. He feels an intense sense of responsibility toward them. 

_Hello_ , comes a small voice. _Who are you?_

Stiles startles and opens his eyes. Or at least he thinks he does, but when he looks around the circle is gone and so is Deaton. He's in a clearing like the one in the real world, but it's greener and more misty. Like something out of a fairy tale. He's looking at a wispy being floating in front of him, swaying back and forth in the breeze.

"I'm Stiles," he says, his voice thick.

_A new worker,_ the voice says. _I like new._

"What's your name?" Stiles asks.

_Dana_. The wispy thing becomes a bit more solid until Stiles can see a smiling, mischievous face.

"I've never talked to a spirit before," Stiles admits. "I'm a little nervous."

Dana laughs. _I'll go easy on you._

"Are you my spirit guide?" Stiles asks.

Dana shakes her head, or what looks to be her head. _You'll meet her soon enough._ She floats closer, looking into Stiles's face. _You're a lot like us. You move between worlds._

Stiles's breath catches. "Do you know why? Or how to stop it?"

_You're a little magical, is all_ , Dana says. _But why would you want to stop it?_

"It's..." But does he want to stop? Give up one world for another? Choose between parents?

_Your life is a gift_ , Dana says softly, fading.

And then Stiles is blinking at Deaton and the circle is back. "She said I'm magic, that it's why I have a split reality," he says as soon as he's reoriented. "I think she knows more than that, though."

"You met a spirit that fast?" Deaton asks. "You were only meditating for about fifteen minutes."

"Her name is Dana," Stiles says. "She's not my guide. She was just curious about me, I think."

Deaton nods. "Okay. Do you remember how to open a circle?"

Stiles does. He shows Deaton he knows what he's doing and opens it up, then they gather their things and walk back to Deaton's car. 

"You did good today, Stiles," Deaton says as he's dropping him off back at home. 

"Thanks," Stiles smiles.

"I mean it. Good luck casting your solitary circle," Deaton says as Stiles gets out.

Stiles waves as Deaton drives away.

He hates how empty the house is, but it gives him time to think. He lies on his bed and listens to music, scribbling notes about Dana in his spellbook. When he's done, his thoughts turn to Derek. Of course.

He wonders about the Derek in the other reality, and about this Derek, too. He wonders how they feel about him, if wanting him has ever crossed their minds. 

The doorbell rings. Stiles frowns and goes downstairs. It's Scott.

"Hey, wanna watch a movie or something?" Scott asks, then wrinkles his nose. "What's that smell?"

"Magic," Stiles says. "We could watch something, sure."

"Wait, wait, wait," Scott says. "Back up. Magic?"

Stiles grins. "Your boss is teaching me stuff. I met a spirit today."

"Isn't that dangerous? Don't spirits, like, tear people apart and stuff?"

"Bad ones might try," Stiles says slowly. "But that's what the circle is for. It keeps bad stuff out and lets good stuff in. Besides, Deaton was there the whole time. He wouldn't let anything happen to me."

Scott frowns for a moment, then gives up and shrugs. "Got a soda? I'm so thirsty."

"Did you ride your bike over?" Stiles asks. "And yeah, in the fridge."

"Yeah. Do you mind if I sleep over tonight?" Scott asks, getting up and going to the kitchen.

"Something wrong?" Stiles asks.

Scott is frowning when he gets back with his Sunkist. "I sleep over all the time."

"You haven't in awhile," Stiles points out.

Scott gives him a guilty look. "Sorry."

Stiles sighs. "Whatever. You can stay."

"Okay," Scott says, relaxing on the sofa. 

Stiles pulls up Netflix and starts _Captain America_. "I can't wait for Winter Soldier."

They trade jokes and talk about pre-serum Steve and Bucky for awhile, until Scott's phone buzzes. He looks at the screen and his face lights up. "It's Allison. She hasn't called or texted since the beginning of summer. Hey, maybe she's back in town!"

Scott is texting back and forth with Allison when Stiles gets up and waves goodnight to Scott, who doesn't notice.

He falls into bed face first.

* * *

"You need to learn how to protect yourself," Deaton tells him in the other Beacon Hills, the one where Jackson is presumably alive and Stiles and Scott haven't seen each other for years, not since Stiles moved away.

"I'm supposed to cast a solitary circle today," Stiles says with a frown. 

"At the rate you are learning, you're going to attract attention from some supernatural forces," Deaton says. "If you aren't careful, you'll become a magnet for trouble."

Stiles's heart starts pounding. "Won't that put the packs in danger?"

"Dammit, Stiles, start thinking of yourself!" Deaton says, and it's the most emotion Stiles has seen from the man, in either world. Disconcerting is too tame a word to describe the display. "You won't be able to protect them if you're dead or incapacitated." 

"Okay. So tell me what I should do," Stiles says shakily.

"You may be attacked by any number of means," Deaton says with a grave, searching look. "And there are complement ways to protect yourself. There's no multipurpose mode of staying safe. There are talismans and herbs and rituals and markings, plus a multitude of defensive spells."

Stiles takes a deep breath. "What do you suggest we do first?"

"I think we should identify the most immediate threats and work from there," Deaton says. "And since you're contacting the spirit world now, defense against malevolent spirits and possession should be your first step."

Stiles nods, because possession by an evil spirit does not sound like a thing he ever wants to experience outside an epic Supernatural rewatch. But then he thinks of something and frowns. "I thought the circle protected me from bad spirits?"

"You aren't always in the circle," Deaton points out.

"Do I need something that mimics the circle, then?" Stiles asks slowly.

"You're picking this up quickly," Deaton says, brows raised.

"Don't sound so surprised," Stiles says with a huff.

"You can imbue a talisman with the same protective qualities of the circle," Deaton says. "Or you can use runes, which are stronger but more temporary unless you look into permanent ink tattoos or scarification . Good if you're expecting a fight, though."

"Like warpaint. Gotcha," Stiles says, his mind somewhat stuck on the idea of tattooing or possibly branding himself with protection. It's a little bit Sam and Dean, but he's okay with that. "Okay, so how do we do the talisman thing?"

"I happen to have an empty one you can fill today in your circle," Deaton says.

"Erm. What do I fill it with?" Stiles asks. "What's the ritual?"

He waits for the inevitable book, but instead Deaton smiles and tells him to start taking notes. Deaton recites the ritual and Stiles stops him a few times to ask questions. Deaton nods when he does, doesn't reprimand him for interrupting. That's something Stiles likes about Deaton: he always encourages questions.

It occurs to Stiles that because of the questions, his talisman ritual is more tailored to him, personally, than it would be if he'd just allowed Deaton to talk without questioning him. He mentions this.

"Yes. The more personal the magic, the stronger it will be," Deaton says.

"Do I need an anchor for this?" Stiles asks as he's preparing the draw the circle in Deaton's basement. 

Deaton tilts his head. "Do you have one?"

"In the other reality, yeah. In this one..."

"Interesting. But to answer your question, this is for protection for yourself. You only have to believe in yourself and have a strong preservation instinct for the magic to work."

"I have to stay safe," Stiles murmurs to himself. "For the pack."

Then he casts his first solitary circle and imbues the talisman with protection energy. Stiles is shocked by how _easy_ it is for him. 

After, he's buzzing with energy as he slips the talisman over his head and looks at it. It's a simple tree of life design, carved of wood, hanging on a strip of smooth leather-like material. Not leather, though. He doesn't know how he can tell, just that somehow it doesn't feel like it used to be alive, not the way the pendant itself feels.

"Thanks for the lesson today," he says as he's leaving.

"You're an interesting young man, Stiles. Your magic is doubly strong than I'd expect," Deaton tells him. His face hides it, but Stiles gets the idea he's more than slightly disturbed by this realization. "Your next protection should be a spell."

"I'll tell the other Deaton as soon as I see him," Stiles promises, wondering how he can have 'doubly strong' magic.

"Good luck with the pack," Deaton says.

Right. The pack. Peter's pack. He remembers that Isaac should be up and around now, and focuses on that that. He should help make him feel welcome. 

He drives out to the Hale house and Derek meets him at the door.

"You left early this morning," Derek says, and it sounds like a reprimand. He leans forward and sniffs at Stiles. "You were at Deaton's." He's partially blocking the door, and Stiles has to brush past him to enter. His heat is addictive and Stiles gasps. He's still buzzing from the energy he raised in the circle.

"Um," Stiles says when Derek blocks his way entirely.

Derek leans in and breathes in at Stiles's neck. In and out. In and out.

"Not that I'm not enjoying this, but .. why exactly are you doing this?" Stiles asks nervously.

Derek picks up his head and grins with perfect white teeth. His eyes flash electric blue. Stiles does not find that sexy, no, not at all. Derek's mouth moves but Stiles can't hear him over the thudding of his heart. 

"What?" Stiles asks dumbly.

Derek moves in closer, until his breath is hot against Stiles's cheek. "You're strong. Good for the pack."

"You think so?" Stiles asks breathlessly.

"You smell so good," Derek says. "Like you're already mine."

Stiles closes his eyes. He's mixing up his feelings for one Derek with the other. Of course he smells like he belongs to Derek, because in his heart he _does_. Only this is the wrong Derek. He doesn't know this man, not really. This half-feral, weaponized sexy Derek is a mystery.

"I don't know you," Stiles says. "You don't know me."

"The wolf doesn't care," Derek says. "You smell like _mate_ already."

Stiles bites down on a hysterical giggle. What about the other Derek? Does Stiles smell like mate to him, too? How can he keep them separate when — he's just realized — he desperately wants them both?

But the other Derek doesn't want him. Does this one, or is this just a game to him? Bold with the question, Stiles presses against Derek's body.

He finds his answer in the hardness of Derek's impressive erection. 

Derek's hands are on him then, pressing against his back, sliding down to cup his ass through his jeans. He pulls him in tighter and he growls low. His stubble is a contrasting mix of soft and scratchy against Stiles's cheek and then his neck. Stiles lets out what he's afraid could be classified as a whimper.

"I've got you," Derek says, and it's more gentle than Stiles was expecting. It does something to his heart, makes Stiles feel like maybe he's got a place here in this reality, in the pack, by Derek's side.

_Mate_ , Peter said, Derek said.

Stiles doesn't even know how that works. He's never discussed it in the other Beacon Hills and he's never come across any in-depth information in his research. His mind is reeling. 

"Ah, young love," Peter says from behind them. Stiles stiffens and Derek whispers a curse.

"What do you want," Derek says, and it doesn't sound like a question at all.

Peter's eyes flare red and Stiles stifles the frisson of fear that produces. Derek takes his hand in his, squeezes lightly. It's reassuring. Nice. Peter's eyes follow the movement and Stiles hates that he catches so much, even a gesture so intimate and precious in its intention. Peter says, "I only wanted to thank Stiles for setting up young Isaac's room last night."

"How is he?" Stiles asks.

Peter tilts his head like he's puzzling Stiles out. "He'll heal."

Stiles knows Peter isn't talking about physical injuries. "What happened to his father?"

"Arrested," Peter says with a twist of his mouth.

Personally, Stiles thinks the man deserves to be tortured as he tortured his son. It's not a kind thought, but then Stiles is not always kind. He knows some of what his own Isaac suffered, and at times was grateful the kanima killed him before Stiles could be tempted to deal with him on his own.

"The pack will be good for Isaac," Stiles says, mostly to himself. 

Peter gives him a strange look, but ultimately nods. "Pack is everything. Well. I'll let you two get back to whatever it was you were doing," he says with a smirk, and then saunters away.

Then Derek starts pulling Stiles toward the stairs. 

"Oh, um, what are you doing?" Stiles asks. 

Derek smiles and keeps pulling Stiles along. 

"You know I'm not, I mean I've never..." Stiles babbles, but he's still following Derek, up the stairs, to a room that can only be Derek's.

Derek gets him in the room. He presses Stiles against the closed door and shoves his face into Stiles's neck, breathing in deeply.

"So I smell really good, then?" Stiles asks, his voice higher than usual.

Derek growls, but it isn't threatening. Just really sexy. Stiles wonders when exactly the growly, animalistic thing started turning him on. 

"If you were a wolf, you'd know," Derek says. "You'd smell it, too. You could smell how much I want you."

"You really want me?" Stiles asks, and yeah, it's a stupid question considering the circumstances. But he's remembering every moment the other Derek turned away from him when he could have kissed him, remembers every missed opportunity, everything Derek never said.

Derek pulls back and looks at him. His eyes are _gentle_. Stiles has never seen this particular face express such tenderness. Derek cups Stiles's face lightly, runs a thumb over his cheek. Then he leans in and kisses him. It's the first kiss Stiles has ever really had, not counting that one brief peck at sleepover camp two years ago.

_This_ is not a peck. This is Derek's tongue sweeping into his mouth, soft and warm, while Derek cradles Stiles's face in his hands like he's something to be cherished.

Stiles feels himself go weak. This is like a dream come true, if he was able to dream. He's never allowed himself to think this could ever happen. This is _Derek_. In the past he fantasized about Derek's mouth on his own, but those imaginings ran toward angry, dominating, bruising, 'If you don't stop babbling sarcastically I will bite-kiss you into shutting up' tactics Derek might some day use once he realized his less-sexy threats had mostly stopped working. 

But this tenderness has caught Stiles off guard. It's stolen his breath and his muscles no longer want to do the job of holding him upright. He's not even focused on those problems, either, but rather on how suddenly light his head is feeling while his heart swells to a previously unknown size.

Derek catches him before he slides down the door. His kiss becomes more heated, more urgent, and somehow they're moving toward the bed now, Derek's hands reaching up under Stiles's shirt to touch his skin as if he's starved for it.

Stiles doesn't remain passive for long. It's been forever since he first ached to get his hands on Derek. It feels like it's been a lifetime of unfulfilled want coupled with the near-certainty that the desire would never be sated. Now, though, he can touch. He can scarcely believe it, but it's true. To prove it to himself, he tugs at Derek's shirt, pulls it up over his head, and looks his fill. He's never been able to just _look_ before. He's always felt he should turn away and pretend he to be unaffected. But now he can look, _stare_ , even. He takes in every dip and hard plane with his eyes, the sparse hairs. He catalogs the light and shadows at play across the muscles, the colors of Derek's skin and nipples. 

"Touch me," Derek says, and Stiles immediately obeys by placing his hands flat against Derek's chest. For a moment, he's still as he enjoys the smooth heat against his palms. His eyes slide closed from the pleasure of just _touching_ , before deliberately opening again to bring himself back to the moment. He doesn't want to lose himself to this, or to somehow forget this is _reality_ , so much more satisfying than he now knows any fantasy could ever be.

He sucks in a breath before sliding his hands over Derek's nipples, noting the way they tighten and perk up. Later, he thinks, he'll examine this reaction more closely. Now, he trails fingertips down to Derek's abs, careful not to touch too lightly. 

The journey is slow, but Derek doesn't get impatient. He just watches Stiles's face. 

"You're so..." Stiles says, but he doesn't know how to finish that sentence. Derek isn't _perfect_ — he's flawed and gruff and grumpy. Broken in some places, healing badly in others. But Stiles knows this, knows Derek well enough to love those parts of him, even the ones that hurt. This Derek can't be that different from the other in these regards.

He drags his hands back up and smooths them over Derek's shoulders and up his neck, then threads his fingers through Derek's hair. _I love you_ he thinks and doesn't say. It's confusing enough in his own head. He pulls Derek in for another kiss so his own mouth will be too occupied to say something stupid.

Derek bites at his lips this time, drags his mouth across Stiles's jaw, sets his blunt teeth against Stiles's throat. Stiles laughs breathlessly. This Derek is such a _wolf_.

Stiles isn't afraid to admit he likes it. Maybe he should be afraid of how _much_ , though.

Derek takes Stiles's shirt off and then moves on to his jeans. Stiles toes off his shoes so his jeans don't get caught up and then too quickly, he's completely naked except for his talisman in front of Derek.

This time, Derek is the one looking his fill. Fair, Stiles thinks. He knows he's in shape, that he's lean but still muscled. If the glow of Derek's eyes is any indication, Derek appreciates how he looks. 

"Lay down," Derek says, his voice rough but careful for all that it's an order. "On the bed."

Stiles wants to snark about Derek telling him what to do, but the truth is that he _likes_ it. He obeys without a word, stretching out with his legs slightly parted, one arm up behind his head. His cock is hard against his belly and he wraps a hand around the base to squeeze because he's practically a moment away from coming just _because_.

Derek's eyes are a steady electric blue, not changing back to hazel at all now. Stiles watches as Derek gets undressed, and then he's crawling on the bed, on top of Stiles, and their skin brushes and the heat makes Stiles shiver. Derek settles between Stiles's legs and he leans down and kisses Stiles until they're both breathless, panting for air. Derek rocks against him, his cock nudging Stiles's, and they both let out broken moans. 

Other than the moaning and gasping, though, there's no other noise. It's too quiet. Stiles has to talk.

"That's so good," Stiles whispers. "I've never... it feels so good."

"You're a virgin?" Derek asks, his voice sounding thick.

Stiles winces and nods. "Yeah."

Derek slides down his body and takes Stiles's cock in his hand. "Has there ever been another mouth on you?"

Stiles knows his eyes are wide. He shakes his head. Derek lets out a pleased rumble and licks his way up the shaft. Stiles gasps. 

"You're going to come down my throat and then I'm going to spill all over you," Derek says, a gruff promise that has Stiles moaning brokenly.

"All yours," Stiles whispers.

Derek growls. "I know you are. I can smell it."

It's not what Stiles meant, but this interpretation works, it seems. 

Derek is good with his mouth. Stiles makes small, broken noises when Derek takes him down all the way and then pulls back up to swirl his tongue around the head and press against the bundle of nerves just below. Up and down, heat, suction, and ecstasy. Derek's hand slides below to play with Stiles's balls, bringing in new sensations and making it more intense.

"Yeah, _yeah_ ," Stiles moans when Derek's spit-wet finger roams behind Stiles's balls to slide over his perineum. "Please, Derek..."

One press of Derek's blunt fingertip against Stiles's sensitive hole is all it takes to get Stiles coming in Derek's mouth, no warning involved for either of them. Stiles gasps in surprise and Derek moans and watches him as he swallows.

" _Jesus_ ," Stiles whispers, feeling as if he's just been cracked open, that he might continue to break if Derek keeps on as he is.

Derek strokes him and milks every drop, pulling more pleasure from him. When Derek seems satisfied Stiles has given up all he can, he sits up, kneeling over him and jerking his own dick.

"You're gonna come on me for real?" Stiles asks, panting a little still. "You... want me to smell like you."

Derek's eyes glow a brighter blue, which hadn't seemed possible before. Stiles shivers and doesn't wish they were red. Not really.

He shouldn't think about something he can't have and will never have. He's happy with what he's got now. 

"Can I..." Stiles asks to distract himself, and reaches down. Derek guides him to wrap his hand around his cock, then wraps his own hand on top so that they stroke together. It's intimate and sexy and Stiles can't pull his eyes away from watching Derek's big dick slide between their joined hands.

Derek pushes Stiles's hand away at the end and leans up, stroking fast as he orgasms with a snarl, painting Stiles's skin with his thick come.

"Okay?" Stiles asks faintly, and looks down at himself. He's filthy, covered in sweat and another man's come. Derek's. He's surprised to find he's not at all ashamed. He loves it.

Derek growls in satisfaction and chases a drop of come that's sliding down Stiles's side with one finger. He gathers the mess and offers it to Stiles like a treat, and Stiles is a master at rolling with it, so he takes the finger into his mouth. The come is salty and viscous but it's _Derek's_ , making something he'd otherwise find kind of gross into… well, it's still gross, but the Derek part overrides that in a major way. Stiles sucks and twirls his tongue around Derek's finger teasingly until he pulls it away.

Soon they wind up lying side by side, Derek not letting him get up to clean off the rest of the come. _Weirdo_ , Stiles thinks affectionately, and snuggles close.

"Don't let me sleep," Stiles mumbles, but then he's falling headlong into another reality.

* * *

Stiles gets up, goes downstairs and drinks some juice. He notices Scott is gone, even though it's still early yet. There's no note or anything, which is odd, but Scott's been odd since the thing with Gerard Argent. 

It's Monday, so the animal clinic is open, which means no lesson until after closing time. Stiles shrugs and decides to go back to bed after he makes some notes in his spellbook. He's only taking a little nap in the other reality after all. And what's waiting for him there is much better than here.

* * *

He wakes with Derek's arms around him, holding him protectively, possessively. It's everything Stiles has ever wanted. 

"You're awake," Derek says.

Stiles smiles and lifts his head from Derek's chest. "So are you. Were you watching me sleep?"

Derek looks guilty. Stiles will take that as a 'yes'. Derek smooths his hand over Stiles's hair. "You said you'd tell me everything."

Stiles feels his face fall. "I can't, not yet."

"You're my mate," Derek says. Like that's the key to the kingdom. Still, hearing the words softens Stiles's resolve. 

"My secret doesn't change anything between us," Stiles says quietly.

Derek looks into his eyes and then nods. "Okay."

"It's like... I have a way of knowing things," Stiles says. "And it's sorta magical."

"You said you didn't have the Sight," Derek says, sounding confused.

"It doesn't work like psychic ability," Stiles says.

"Can you control it?" Derek asks.

Stiles hesitates. He can stay awake as long as he can, but that just mixes up his days. "Not really."

"Is this ability what brought you to us?" Derek asks.

"Indirectly, yes," Stiles says. "I wasn't expecting Peter to be Alpha." He bites his tongue. He shouldn't have said that.

"Why?" Derek asks.

Stiles shrugs. "How can you respect him, after what he did to your sister?"

Derek stiffens. Pulls away. Stiles feels the loss immediately.

"What do you know?" Derek asks roughly.

Stiles should tell Derek everything. At least what he knows about this, about Peter. Derek has the right to know.

"I know he lured her back to Beacon Hills so he could kill her and become the Alpha," Stiles says quietly.

"That's not what happened," Derek says. But there's a bit of doubt in his voice.

Stiles doesn't have the picture of the deer this time to back it up. "I'm not lying," he says, and knows his heartbeat is strong and sure.

"How do you know?" Derek demands to know.

"I can't tell you that," Stiles says, sighing. He's cold without Derek's heat. He rubs his arms, feeling gooseflesh rise up. He shivers.

"Get dressed," Derek says, and gets up. Stiles watches him put his clothes back on, wishes for the moments back so he could once again be in Derek's arms.

Will Derek forgive him this? He twists his hands in the sheet. Wonders what Derek will do next. 

Stiles's heart jumps in his throat. "You can't confront him." He looks up, sees that Derek's eyes are once again burning blue.

"If he- he deserves to die if he did what you said," Derek says.

Stiles bites his lip and nods. "I know. He caused so much pain, took so much from you... But he's stronger than you. He's an Alpha with a stable pack, there's no way you can take him on by yourself."

"I need to-"

"Derek, he'll _kill_ you," Stiles says, distressed at the thought.

"So I should go on as if nothing is wrong?" Derek snarls.

"You have to," Stiles says.

"I'd rather die than allow him to carry on as if he didn't kill-"

"Please!" Stiles says, getting off the bed, uncaring of his nudity, grabbing Derek's hands in his own. _I couldn't bear that_ , he thinks but doesn't say. Derek seems to read on his face, though.

Derek pulls back, but his face softens a bit. "You barely know me."

Stiles moves closer. "Listen to my heart. Sniff me. I don't know, but just hear me out. I care about you. You're the reason I'm even here. I came to help _you_ , because you mean so much to me."

Derek frowns. "Your ability?"

Stiles swallows hard. "I know your heart," he says, and snorts. "I know it sounds corny, but-"

"You're my mate," Derek says.

"I barely know what that means," Stiles admits. "I- are we married, now? Is it magical? Is there a metaphysical bond involved? Because I don't know if I'm ready for that."

"It's more than marriage. There's a bond, but since you're human you can't feel it. You could leave me, if you wanted," Derek says, sounding hesitant.

"Is it for life?" Stiles asks.

"It is for me," Derek says quietly. "But... we haven't consummated it yet. The full bond isn't in effect."

Stiles has more questions, but Derek is looking less than confident, as if Stiles is going to change his mind. "I'm not leaving you."

"You still want it?" Derek asks.

Stiles moves into Derek's arms, hides his face in his neck. He loves him. He wants to tell him but it's too soon.

Derek's arms tighten and tension leaves his body. He runs his hands down Stiles's back, then up and down again, as if he can't get enough of Stiles's skin.

Stiles knows Derek has trust issues. That he's been deceived again and again, and that finding out about Peter's lies has got to be painful. But Derek is holding on, still touching Stiles, talking about forever, like he trusts him. Like maybe he could love him.

Stiles will take as much of that as he can get.

Eventually they break apart and Stiles gets dressed. Derek goes out for a run, presumably to process everything and try to make plans.

Stiles finds Isaac sitting on his bed in his new room. It's past dinner, so Stiles asks him if he's eaten. Isaac shakes his head, and Stiles coaxes him downstairs.

There are frozen veggies, long-grain rice, thawed chicken tenderloins, and bottled teriyaki sauce. Stiles can work with that. He makes sure Isaac's plate is heaping enough for a teenaged werewolf metabolism and fixes some for himself, too.

Stiles talks. Isaac doesn't say much, keeps eye contact to a minimum, but he smiles a little when Stiles makes outrageous claims on every subject he can think of, from movies to music to video games.

When the one-sided conversation winds down, Stiles says, "I'm glad you're here and that you're okay."

Isaac looks up, eyes wide.

"Derek wanted to bring you here sooner, but apparently Peter had his reservations," Stiles says. So maybe he's planting some loyalty seeds for Derek. So what.

"Why did Peter..."

"It was all Derek," Stiles says with a small smile, and lets that grow. "Why don't you go find Boyd and Erica? You should bond with your pack. It'll be good for you." _It will help you heal._

Isaac shrugs and goes, but he has a smile on his face as he does. Stiles makes a plate for Derek and puts it in the fridge so it can be reheated after Derek's run.

Stiles makes a list of things he needs to practice magic on his own. Candles, oils, crystals, rope. When Derek gets back from his run, Stiles is waiting for him, but he's tired. So tired. He wishes he could actually sleep. Or dream.

Derek takes a shower and eats when he comes out again. He's silent and gloomy and Stiles only wants to wrap his arms around him. So he suggests they turn in early. For hours they do nothing but hold each other and breathe together.

Stiles thinks about why this Derek is different from the other. Peter must have encouraged him to rely more on his wolf's instincts, in order to get him to trust him as his Alpha. That way, he would have more control over him, and sooner than it would take human trust to rebuild. It's just a theory, but Stiles thinks he's right.

Derek nuzzles against his skin, inhaling, making soft wolfy noises that Stiles loves because they sound so satisfied despite anything else that might be happening.

Eventually, Stiles falls into the other reality.

* * *

"I need a spell against an Alpha werewolf," Stiles tells Deaton.

"Because of the Alpha pack?" Deaton asks.

"That, too. It's just... I told the other Derek about what Peter did," Stiles admits.

Deaton raises his eyebrows. "He believed you?"

"I think he did," Stiles says. "I'm his mate."

Deaton looks at him for a long time. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"I love him," Stiles says quietly.

"Him, or the Derek you know in _this_ reality?"

"Both," Stiles says guiltily. "I love them both."

Deaton sighs. "Mating with a werewolf can be difficult, when you're human. You don't feel the bond the way he does. It can lead to misunderstandings and unnecessary heartache."

"Do you think I should take the bite, then?" Stiles asks curiously. He's always _almost_ wanted it, it's always been in the back of his head. But he's never wanted it from Peter. 

"I think, as you are now, between realities, the bite would kill you," Deaton says. "I'm not sure, though; it's just a feeling I get."

"Because... my energy is in two places, and if I added the wolf to my energies in one reality, it wouldn't balance out," Stiles says slowly, figuring it out on his own. "I might be immune, but I would probably die." He's always wondered what would happen if he died in one reality and not the other. Would the jumping finally end with him being anchored in one reality for good? Or would he be gone entirely?

"Your situation is unique," Deaton says. "I'd like to find out exactly why you split the way you did."

"Do you think there's a cure?" Stiles asks. 

"I believe something happened to you in that accident, and that it may be reversed, if we found out what that something is."

Stiles tries to remember how to breathe normally. "If I chose one reality over the other, I would be killing one of my parents. I would be leaving one pack behind. I would-" He breaks off, breathing hard. It's difficult to get enough air. He can't hear, can't see anything but his shaking hands. 

Eventually, Deaton brings him out of it with some incense and steady, meditative talking. Stiles is calm again after a while, and nods at Deaton in gratitude.

"Do you think you can focus enough today to learn a spell?" Deaton asks calmly.

"A spell to hurt an Alpha?" Stiles asks.

"No, but you could probably find a way to do so with it," Deaton says. "It's a spell to slow time, or rather to make yourself quicker."

Stiles blinks. "I'm I gonna go all Matrix on Peter?"

Deaton frowns. "Somewhat."

"Let's hear it, then."

"Get your notebook out," Deaton says.

For about an hour, Deaton explains the fundamentals of the spell, how much energy it requires, the duration in relation to the speed of the caster. Stiles picks it all up quickly. Within another hour, he's performing the spell with mixed results.

"It takes practice. You need to get the ratio of speed versus duration just right," Deaton says.

Stiles nods. He's not as proficient as he wants to be, but he's doing it a little bit, at least.

He's tired when he puts his notebook away. "Is that all for today?"

"Not quite," Deaton says, and hands Stiles a thin book. "You need to study this so you can do more work with the spirit world. And I want you to meet a guardian spirit soon, so this is very important."

"Oh, you mean the forest guardian you told me about?" Stiles asks. He doesn't remember which Deaton told him that. 

"His name is Bran, and he's very old and wise. If you make friends with him and you end up fighting in his territory, the forest will come to your aid," Deaton says.

"So I have to do this in both realities," Stiles says.

"No, just one. Bran moves between worlds, so if you know him in one reality, you'll know him in the other."

" _Sweet_ ," Stiles says. 

He takes the thin book ( _Manners for the Newly Initiated_ , it's titled) and his spellbook, then heads to Derek's new place.

He doesn't know how he's going to react. So much has happened since the last time he's seen this Derek. But they're friends, and Stiles said he'd see him today. He's curious how the new furniture looks in the house.

The door is open and Derek is waiting for him when he gets to the house. "Here," Derek says, and in his hand is a brass house key. Stiles takes it, smiling, and almost kisses him.

Stiles steps back before his emotions get the better of him. He puts the new key on his keyring and says, "Thanks."

Inside, the house is still pretty bare, but it has furniture now and it looks like Derek went out and got a TV and an Xbox.

"This is great," Stiles says before he collapses on one of the couches. "Ahh. Comfy."

"You smell exhausted and you reek of magic," Derek says. 

"Yeah. Well, I'm learning a new spell," Stiles says. "I'd show you, but I think I've done it enough today. Too tired to try."

"Why don't you take a nap?" Derek says, sitting down on the couch beside Stiles. Stiles sighs and puts his feet in Derek's lap. It's good. Comfortable.

"Can't," Stiles says, holding up the book Deaton gave him. "Gotta read up on the proper etiquette when meeting tree fairies. Something like that."

"I think it's probably bad manners to call a guardian spirit a fairy," Derek says. "I hear they take offense."

Stiles straightens up a little. "You know about this stuff?"

"Just what my mother taught me when I was young, which wasn't much," Derek says. "I've never actually met a spirit."

"I have," Stiles says. "She was cool."

Derek starts pulling Stiles's shoes off. "Are you sure you're not too tired?"

"Gotta study," Stiles says around a yawn. Derek rubs at his sock-clad feet and he moans softly. "Oh, that's _good_."

Derek pauses for a moment, a strange look on his face, before he resumes rubbing. 

"What?" Stiles asks.

"Nothing," Derek says shortly, almost angrily. "Read your book."

"Yes sir, Alpha sir," Stiles says under his breath. He ignores Derek's mood, flips to the first marked page, and starts to read.

He makes notes of things that seem especially important, and he's most of the way through the book when Derek snorts. "You're nodding off," he says.

Stiles blinks. "I can't yet. I have to stay here and finish."

"You can stay here and _sleep_ ," Derek says. "Finish when you wake up."

"Ugh," Stiles says. "Can't wait that long."

Derek raises his eyebrows. "I could wake you in an hour or so."

Stiles sighs and sits up. "No. Gotta finish now."

"Stubborn," Derek says, and it sounds exasperated but fond at the same time.

Stiles smiles at him and goes back to reading. It's a miracle he finishes. He'll need to brush up in the next reality before he attempts to contact Bran, but he has the basics. He closes the book and, as if the action grants magical permission, instantly falls asleep.

* * *

Derek is awake and watching him, one arm draped across his body possessively, when Stiles opens his eyes in the other reality. Stiles meets his eyes, smiles, and checks his bracelet out of habit. 

"Lemme up, gotta go," Stiles says. Derek seems to be reluctant when he moves his arm away. Stiles hurries into the bathroom, takes a piss, brushes his teeth; all the while he's marveling at how much he's not freaking out. He returns to the bed, to Derek, as soon as he's done. "No more morning breath for me."

"I wouldn't have minded," Derek says, and kisses him.

Stiles moans, an automatic and natural reaction to the slick slide of Derek's tongue against his own. Derek rolls over on top of him, his body solid and heavy and hot. Stiles likes the way it feels to be pressed down against the mattress. 

_I love you, I love you_ , Stiles thinks, kissing back, his arms holding, clinging to Derek. He wonders if Derek will be able to feel his love once their bond is complete.

He suddenly wants that. He wants it more than anything.

"Derek," Stiles gasps. "I want you. I think we should… with the bond and all." It shouldn't be this hard to say, and he hopes Derek understand he means, _I want to be your mate. I want this for real._

"We don't have to rush," Derek says after going still for just a moment, but then he moves suddenly, kissing down Stiles's chest and then getting lube out of the bedside table.

Stiles laughs. He's happy. So incredibly happy with Derek, his mate, his everything. "No, rushing is fine. You have no idea how long I've waited for this." He thinks of all the pining and aching he's done, just waiting for Derek to give him a second glance, to _see_ him, to want him back as much as Stiles himself has been wanting for so long. He has to close his eyes and swallow against the rising emotion.

"Tell me if I hurt you," Derek says, so serious and earnest. Stiles nods and then Derek is spreading Stiles's legs and pushing gently back, guiding Stiles's hands to hold himself behind the knees. Derek pauses, his gaze so heavy it's like a touch Stiles can actually feel. The sensation is a combination of breathless vulnerability and white-hot desire, all twisted and tangled together inside.

Derek's eyes flare electric blue, enough to steal Stiles's breath. The sharp inhale catches Derek's attention and for a split second he focuses at Stiles's mouth. Stiles's licks his lips when he sees where Derek's looking. It's an involuntary action, but it causes Derek to growl just loud enough for Stiles to hear. 

It's the hottest thing Stiles has ever heard in his life.

Derek smirks. "Yeah?" 

Apparently Stiles said that out loud.  
Derek's smile grows as he's watching Stiles's face, and he ducks down as if to hide it against Stiles's skin. His blunt teeth scrape against Stiles's neck, harder than he expects, and Stiles hisses with surprised pleasure.

"I don't have a clue what we're doing…" Stiles says, and Derek huffs a laugh.

"I think you know exactly what we're doing," Derek says, and then his attention is lower where he's smearing slick behind Stiles's dick, over his perineum and touching his hole. He kisses Stiles's chest reverently before he presses, twists, works a thick finger inside. Stiles's cock jumps at the very idea and begins to leak a steady drop drip drop on his belly. He knows Derek can smell it, and that's probably the cause of the next growl he hears, louder but still controlled, the sound something Stiles's body translates into lightning down his spine.

"Jesus fuck," Stiles whimpers when Derek's finger rubs over his prostate like he knew its exact location, like he's already so intimately familiar with Stiles's body. 

After that, Stiles has trouble making himself do anything to participate other than moan and writhe and move wherever Derek pushes him. Which, in the end, is up on his knees with Derek behind him, and maybe Stiles is begging at this point, with his voice and with his body as he rocks back to press his ass up tight against Derek's _everything_.

"Derek, fuck, put it in," Stiles whines, and Derek makes a noise like he's choking back laughter but he does what Stiles asks and the head of his cock is pressing against him. Stiles isn't sure how it's going to fit but he trusts Derek to make it happen. 

It does. It does happen. Slowly, carefully, until Stiles decides it's just not right for Derek to be so controlled and he rocks back in one swift move that results in Derek's cock pushing in deep.

Stiles goes still and Derek stills, too, and they moan and pant and it's so big and so _much_ , and all Stiles wants now is, "More, please, oh god," which sounds high and breathless and Derek answers with his body if not his words.

And with another deep growl when he starts fucking Stiles like he means it.

_Like he means it_ is hard and near-brutal, and Stiles loses himself in the movement and the intensity, and then even more when Derek pulls him up into his lap, backwards, so that he can get a slick hand on Stiles's cock.

Stiles _yelps_ , and he's sure he'd be embarrassed by that if he wasn't so overwhelmed. Derek's mouth is on the nape of his neck, biting and licking and growling against the top nob of Stiles's spine. He's whispering, growling something, but Stiles doesn't understand the words.

He completely and totally understand the tone, though, and that is possession and desperation, and just knowing that's how Derek is feeling is enough to bring Stiles's orgasm to the fore, and so he gives himself over to it, letting it crash over him and he reaches back and grips whatever parts of Derek he can. His hands slip over Derek's sweaty skin as he tries to find purchase, and Derek strokes him through his coming, and then shoves Stiles back forward onto his elbows, his ass in the air, and Derek just fucks him hard. Not for very long, though, because Derek comes fast after that, and then...

Then they've collapsed together in a sweaty, too-hot tangle that Stiles never wants to be away from. He catches his breath like that, his heart so full of love and wonder that he gets this, he gets Derek, and it doesn't matter which Derek it is. 

Derek is holding him tightly, so tight Stiles is wondering how he can still breathe. "You love me," Derek says, wonder in his voice.

"You can feel that?" Stiles asks, and of all the times to be shy, it has to be now?

"Through the bond," Derek whispers. "I can feel you. Everything."

Stiles bites his lip. "I wish I could feel you." It would be handy, knowing exactly how Derek feels. He's not entirely free with his emotions, and that is probably the biggest understatement Stiles has ever thought in his life.

Derek takes Stiles's hand and places it over his heart. It's beating hard, racing. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. Stiles understands.

"Let's go out," Stiles murmurs. "I want a banana split from DQ." Derek gives him an odd look. Stiles smiles. "What?"

"For breakfast? And don't you have magic lessons today?" Derek asks.

"I have to borrow a book, read through it, and then meet a guardian spirit," Stiles says. "But Deaton works until four today. We've got plenty of time." He grins. "Bananas are totally a good breakfast."

Derek shakes his head. "If you say so."

"I do," Stiles says, giving him a kiss.

They shower separately because Stiles and Derek both know they'll lose more time if they try to shower together. 

Over banana splits, Derek asks Stiles, "So you're meeting a guardian spirit?"

Stiles grins. "The guardian of the forest, yeah. Cool, huh? I'm kinda nervous." Okay, he's a lot nervous. It's a big deal.

"Have you ever done anything like this before?" Derek asks.

"I met a minor spirit, I guess you'd call her. But that was with guided meditation and this time I'm doing it on my own. I'm pretty sure it'll work, but... it might not." Stiles bites his lip and jiggles his leg. He didn't take his Adderall this morning. He's not sure if it helps him focus his energy or not. He needs to ask Deaton. It might make it harder to contact the spirit world. He doesn't think so, but he needs to be sure.

"What happens once you meet this spirit?" Derek asks.

Stiles laughs. "I really don't know. I mean, I'm studying all kinds of things to make it go smoother, but it might not matter at all. He might be a total dickwad and refuse to help."

"Help with what?" Derek asks with a frown.

"The forest. If you fight in the forest, and the guardian is on your side, he can help. Or rather, he'll help _me_. Hopefully," Stiles says. "When the Alpha pack attacks, I need to be able to protect you as much as I can."

Derek frowns. "That's not your responsibility. I can take care of myself. And the Alpha pack hasn't done anything besides mark the house with their symbol."

"They will," Stiles says, thinking of how, in the other reality, they went after the betas. Boyd and Erica got away, but Jackson wasn't so lucky.

"You're sad," Derek says.

"I don't want anything happening to you," Stiles says. He realizes he's been staring at his empty plastic dish so he looks up into Derek's eyes. "I can't lose you. And... maybe we should wait until after the Alpha pack is gone before we deal with Peter. We'll need him to fight; he's the strongest."

Derek frowns and nods. "That makes sense."

"I always make sense," Stiles says loftily.

Derek snorts.

"What's that? Are you doubting me?" Stiles asks with a smile.

"No," Derek says seriously. 

It's such a cliche, but Stiles doesn't know how he got so lucky.

Later, Stiles gets the book, studies and takes notes, then studies some more. "Do you think I'm ready?" he asks Deaton.

Deaton smiles. "As you'll ever be."

"Should I go with you?" Derek asks.

Stiles shakes his head. "I think I need to do this on my own."

"The forest might not be safe," Derek says.

Deaton smiles at them both. "Derek can keep watch, if you don't mind."

"Anything I should be ready for?" Derek asks.

"I think mostly it will be me meditating?" Stiles says. "That's all it was last time."

"You can expect more from Bran," Deaton says.

"Great," Stiles says. He doesn't like being surprised. Not when it comes to magical spirits.

Deaton makes sure Stiles has his supplies and sends him on his way.

Stiles and Derek drive out to the preserve and Stiles sets up for his meditation. It's almost twilight, which is one of the good times of day to do this. Sunrise would be another good time. Noon is almost never the right time. Stiles hasn't figured out why, yet.

He's wearing his amulet, so drawing a circle for protection isn't necessary. Besides, the less barriers he puts between himself and the forest, the better.

He's expecting a raven. Bran means raven in Welsh, after all, so Stiles's eyes are on the sky and the tree branches. He's totally open to the spirit of the forest. Open. That's him. Accepting and ready.

He's not expecting the stag that comes wandering through the clearing, but he accepts this is his sign. He's excellent at rolling with it.

"Greetings?" Stiles says to the stag.

He hears a deep laugh in his head. Stiles looks over to where Derek is leaning against a tree on the edge of the clearing. Derek looks shocked and a little awed. Stiles gives him a smile and turns back to the stag.

"Are you the guardian of the forest?" Stiles asks.

_You may call me Bran_ , the voice says. The stag's eyes look into Stiles's, intelligence showing through. _I know what you are here for, but it must wait. You must meet the one who is waiting for you._

"I don't understand," Stiles murmurs. "Who are you talking about? Where are they?"

Bran-the-stag tilts his head. _He is trapped in the spirit world._

"Who is?" Stiles asks impatiently. 

_Go to him and you will see_ , Bran says.

"I don't know how to do that," Stiles says. 

The stag nuzzles his hand and Stiles shakes his head. Then the stag is leaving, galloping away until the trees swallow him up.

"Wait!" Stiles calls after him, but it's too late. He's gone.

"Are you okay?" Derek asks, coming forward. "What happened?"

"My life. So weird," Stiles mutters. "I need to talk to Deaton."

"Do you want me to take you back to his house?" Derek asks.

Stiles sighs. "No, I don't want to bother him. I'll ask when I see him next."

"That was pretty amazing, what you did. Calling the stag to you," Derek says.

"That was the guardian of the forest," Stiles says.

"Did he say he would help?" Derek asks.

"No," Stiles says. "He had some kind of message for me. That's why I need Deaton."

Derek frowns. Stiles laughs and wraps his arms around him because he can. He gives him a kiss, one that lingers.

"Let's go back to the house and get dinner. I'm starving," Stiles says.

* * *

He wakes on Derek's new couch. There's a soft blanket covering him. He doesn't know where it came from, but imagining Derek putting it on him makes him feel warm all over. He checks a clock. "Shit," he says. He needs to get home before his dad gets off work.

He's washing his face with cold water when Derek leans against the bathroom door frame. Stiles looks up and sees that he's wearing sweatpants and nothing else. 

"Hungry?" Derek asks, and Stiles forces himself to look at Derek's eyes. His _eyes_.

"Yeah, but I've got to get home," Stiles says. "Dad gets off work at eight." It's seven now.

Derek nods. "There's a pack meeting tonight."

Oh, right. Stiles had forgotten. 

"Scott's not answering his phone," Derek says. "Will you remind him?"

"Sure," Stiles says, and pulls out his phone. He calls Scott instead of texting, but it goes straight to voicemail. He frowns. "Weird. Well, I'll see him at the animal clinic anyway. I'll tell him then."

He gets home in time to make breakfast. The eggs are still steaming when his dad comes through the door.

"What did I do to deserve this? Or should I ask you what did _you_ do?" his dad asks warily.

Stiles shrugs. "Haven't seen much of you this summer," he says.

"Work has been hectic," his dad says apologetically. "Breaking in all the new deputies is a pain in the ass."

Stiles makes sympathetic noises as he fixes plates for the two of them. Turkey bacon, scrambled Egg Beaters, fresh fruit. Coffee with Splenda. It looks pretty good to Stiles, but his dad grumbles about real food. Stiles knows he doesn't really mean it, though. It's just habit by now.

"What have you been up to this summer?" his dad asks.

"Hanging out," Stiles says. "Scott stayed over the other night."

"Sounds like old times," his dad remarks.

"It was weird," Stiles says. "Scott's just been... _off_ since the Argents left town."

His dad nods thoughtfully. "So, it's just been you and Scott so far? Because Mr. Angelini at the furniture store said he saw you in there with Derek Hale."

Stiles groans. Damned small towns. "Yeah, Derek got a new place and he needed furniture."

His dad stares at him. It's the Cop Stare. 

"We're friends, okay?" Stiles says. "That's all."

His dad's eyebrows climb. "I wasn't suggesting there was more to it than that, but since you brought it up I have to wonder now."

"He doesn't, I mean, he wouldn't..." Stiles trails off before he digs his hole deeper.

"But you would?" his dad asks. "Son, is there something you need to tell me?"

Stiles bites his lip. There's so much he wants to tell his father. 

His dad sits back in his chair and folds his arms, watching him. "You're not gay. I think your longtime pining over Lydia Martin proves that."

"I'm kinda gay?" Stiles says. "When it comes to a certain person, I'm _really_ gay."

His dad runs a hand over his face. "Hale is an adult and you are not. Just remember that."

"He doesn't see me like that, so it doesn't matter," Stiles says. He tries not to sound too morose. He really has no reason to be upset about this. He has Derek in the other reality. That Derek is his _mate_. 

"You can do better than someone who doesn't appreciate you," his dad says.

"He appreciates me! Just... as a friend," Stiles says. He doesn't know why he feels the need to defend Derek to his father. 

"As long as it stays that way," his father says. "I will remind you that the age of consent in California is eighteen and I will not hesitate to throw Hale in jail if I think-"

"Ugh, Dad, just don't," Stiles says, cutting him off. "Even if we were having sex, I mean, we're not, but if we _were_? I'm old enough to make my own decisions about what I do with my body. The law is good to keep people from taking advantage, but if it was me and Derek that wouldn't be the case. Okay?"

His dad narrows his eyes. "I think I need to talk to Hale now."

"Nooo," Stiles says. "Please, there will be no threatening, no long chats about your badge and gun and knowing where he sleeps at night."

"I just think I should know your friends," his father says mildly. "Invite him to dinner tomorrow night."

"Don't you have to work?" Stiles asks, feeling sick.

"I can take off a few hours for a family dinner," his dad says.

Stiles clears the table and puts the dishes in the dishwasher. His father comes up behind him and pats his back.

"Don't worry. I won't embarrass you too badly." Then he goes upstairs to (presumably) sleep.

Stiles groans.

He takes a shower, gets dressed, and heads to the animal clinic. 

"Where's Scott?" Stiles asks Deaton when he gets there.

Deaton frowns. "He didn't come in this morning. He hasn't called to say he's running late, either."

"Huh. Maybe he's sick? I'll check his house when I'm done here," Stiles says.

"What's going on that's so important you couldn't wait until this evening's lesson?" Deaton asks.

Stiles huffs. "I met Bran. He wouldn't talk to me about protection, though. He said something else, about someone trapped in the spirit world? Someone I need to meet."

Deaton frowns more. "It must be important if Bran passed on this message."

"Yeah. So what do I do?" Stiles asks.

"Obviously you need to make contact again, see if you can meet this being," Deaton says.

"Being?" Stiles asks.

"Yes, well, we don't know if it's a person or a spirit, do we?"

"Like it could be a ghost?" Stiles asks. He thinks of his mom in this reality, dead and gone, his father and him left alone to mourn.

Deaton nods. "We won't know until you find them."

"Can you do it with me? The contacting?" Stiles asks. He'd never admit it, but he's afraid.

"I can guide you through your meditation, like last time, but I can't go wherever it takes your spirit," Deaton tells him.

"Okay." He takes a breath to steady himself. "Today, after closing time?"

"That would be fine," Deaton answers.

Stiles nods and goes on his way. He stops by Scott's house, and a tired Mrs. McCall answers the door. "Just got off my shift, Stiles. What's going on?"

"I can't find Scott," Stiles says. 

She frowns. "He texted that he's staying with you."

A feeling of dread hits Stiles in the gut. He covers, though, in case Scott is off doing something stupid like visiting Allison out of town. "Right, he is. I just woke up this morning and he was gone."

She smiles. "He's working this morning, I think."

Stiles slaps his forehead. "Oh, right! Sorry."

"Good to see you two are just as codependent as always," Mrs. McCall says wryly.

Stiles shrugs and says, "I'll go, then. I know you've got to be tired. Dad's always faceplanting into bed when he gets off a long shift."

She smiles and waves him off. He drives back out to Derek's. On the way there, he calls Allison.

It's a minor miracle that she picks up. "Stiles?"

"Have you talked to Scott today? Do you know where he is?"

"I haven't talked to him since we left town," Allison says.

Stiles blinks. "But you texted him two days ago. Scott was so happy!"

"I didn't. Stiles, it wasn't me."

He swears and drops the call. He practically runs inside Derek's house.

"Problem," he pants as soon as he gets in the door.

Derek gets up with a serious expression, then holds Stiles by the shoulders. Stiles hadn't realized he was shaking. "What?"

"Scott's missing." Stiles pulls away and sits down heavily on the sofa. He puts his face in his hands. "Oh God."

"Tell me what happened," Derek says.

"He was at my house the other day, oh god, this happened _days_ ago, I should've known when he left so early!" Stiles says. His chest feels tight and he can't breathe.

Derek rubs his back. "Try to stay calm. Scott needs you to stay calm. Breathe."

"Someone who said they were Allison texted him," Stiles says between gasps. "But I just called her and she said she didn't. It wasn't her."

Usually, touching makes the panic worse. But this time, Derek's touch is soothing. Maybe because of the mate thing. No, this Derek isn't his mate. 

Stiles's mind is going ninety miles an hour. He allows himself to tilt toward Derek, to rest his forehead against his shoulder. Just for a moment. Derek lets him. After awhile, Stiles is breathing much easier but he's still resting against Derek. It feels good, so good.

He sighs and pulls away. "Thanks."

Derek moves back so that he's no longer touching Stiles at all. Stiles aches with the loss. 

"So what do we do?" Stiles asks, but Derek is texting someone on his phone.

After a minute, Derek looks up and says, "You're not doing anything. You're staying here and Isaac is coming over. I'll go look for Scott, see if I can catch his scent."

Stiles wishes he could do more than slow time a little and talk to guardian spirits. He needs to learn more magic so he can be an asset. "I don't need a babysitter, geez."

"Everyone in the pack is a prospective target now," Derek says. "Everyone is pairing up. Hopefully I'll know something by tonight's meeting."

"Who are you pairing with?" Stiles asks.

Derek doesn't even have the decency to look guilty.

"Call Deaton and ask him to help," Stiles says, then remembers who he's talking to. "Nevermind, I will." He whips out his phone and calls Deaton.

After a short, tense conversation, Deaton agrees to do something to help find Scott. He doesn't say what, but he asks Derek to meet him at the animal hospital.

Derek looks like he doesn't know if he should be grateful or pissed off at the interference. But he goes, so that's the important bit. He doesn't leave until Isaac is there with Stiles, though. His concern makes Stiles feel warm and fuzzy. Maybe Derek doesn't feel the same as he does, but he cares. 

Isaac and Stiles shoot zombies on the new Xbox. They both try to relax and not think about Scott, but it's clear they're just covering up their anxiety.

At lunchtime, Stiles makes a few sandwiches and Isaac wolfs down three of them. Stiles forces himself to eat one. 

Erica and Boyd show up after a while, and together the four of them sit around the living room for hours, tense and worried. They haven't heard anything from Derek and Deaton, so Stiles sends a quick text to Derek, just to check up. He doesn't hear back for almost an hour. 

**found him**

Stiles grips the phone and stares at the words. He needs to know if Scott is okay. He sends another text. **how is he?**

**he'll heal** , Derek sends. 

Stiles bows his head and lets Erica rub his back. 

In less than half an hour, they're bringing Scott inside, and there's so much blood all over his clothes that they're barely recognizable.

"Is that all his?" Stiles asks, hovering nearby as Deaton checks Scott over. 

"Yes," Derek says grimly.

"But he'll heal?" Stiles asks.

"Slowly, but yes," Deaton says.

Stiles holds on tight to that thought. Scott's not dead and he's not dying. That's something.

"Why would they leave him alive, though?" Isaac asks.

"It's a message," Derek says. "He told us, before he passed out again. The Alpha pack gave him a message for me."

Stiles grasps Derek's forearm, just holding on. "What was the message?"

"They want this territory. They want a fight on the full moon," Derek says.

Stiles swallows hard. He doesn't know if he can be ready by the full moon. It's only a week and a half away.

"In the forest?" Stiles asks. Bran might help, if they fight there. He looks at Deaton and Deaton nods, obviously thinking along the same lines.

"Yeah," Derek says.

"Okay," Stiles says. "Okay. We can work with this."

Derek gives him a hard look. "You won't be involved."

Stiles sputters. "The hell I won't! This is my pack, too."

"It's too dangerous," Derek says, and he grabs Stiles's shoulders like he's about to shake him. 

"I'm learning to defend myself. To defend _us_. You'll need me," Stiles says stubbornly.

"You can't fight one of the betas, let alone an Alpha," Derek says.

"Give me a little more time," Stiles says. "I'll show you."

"Will he be ready by the full moon?" Derek asks Deaton. 

Deaton gives Stiles a considering look. "Perhaps."

Derek scowls. "That's not good enough."

"There are no guarantees," Stiles says. "If I think I'll be more of a liability than an asset, I'll keep myself out of the fight."

"Dammit, Stiles, that's not what this is about!" Derek yells. "I'm just trying to keep you alive!" He growls with frustration and then turns on his heel, storming into his bedroom and closing the door.

"Ugh, he makes me so mad," Stiles says.

"He cares about you," Deaton says.

Not like Stiles wants, not like the other Derek. Stiles sighs. "I know. Now tell me about Scott."

"He's lost a lot of blood and the injuries are from Alphas, so he'll heal more slowly than usual," Deaton says.

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Stiles asks.

"No," Deaton says. "I don't want to interrupt the healing by bringing magic into it."

Stiles nods. That makes sense. 

"He's in a natural healing sleep now, and probably won't wake for hours," Deaton explains. "I know you had something to do today."

"Contact the spirit world, yeah," Stiles says. "Bran made it sound important."

"Then we should do that," Deaton says.

"Where, though? I don't want to leave Scott like this," Stiles says.

"If Derek would permit it, we could use one of the rooms here," Deaton says. "Maybe the basement."

"Okay," Stiles says, and walks to Derek's room. He knocks on the door, soft and hesitant.

"Come in, Stiles," Derek says through the door.

He's sitting on the bed, against the headboard, with a paperback in his lap. Stiles wants to crawl up beside him and fit their bodies together. "Deaton and I need to do some meditation and spirit walking, but I don't want to leave Scott."

"I heard," Derek says. "You can use the basement. There's nothing down there yet."

Stiles nods. "Thanks." He turns to go.

"Stiles," Derek says, and it makes him pause.

"Yeah?"

"Before, I just meant..." Derek trails off, looking uncomfortable.

"You just want me to stay safe," Stiles says. "I got that."

"You're my... we're..."

"Friends?" Stiles says with a smile. 

Derek looks at him, a frustrated scowl on his face. 

"It's okay," Stiles says. "You're allowed to have friends, you know."

"It's more than that," Derek says, his jaw set like he's in pain.

Stiles swallows. His heartbeat picks up. He knows Derek can hear it, but he doesn't know, _never_ knows, what Derek thinks of it.

"You're pack," Derek says.

Stiles lets out a breath and nods, feeling let down. He doesn't know why he keeps getting his hopes up. "Yeah, I know. And you feel responsible toward me. I get it, Derek."

Derek gives him an odd look Stiles can't decipher. Then he nods.

"Okay," Stiles says, and bites his lip. "Thanks again for letting us use the basement. Oh! And I almost forgot!" Derek tilts his head and Stiles gives him a wide grin. "You're invited to dinner at my house tomorrow night."

Derek's eyebrows climb. "What?"

"My dad wants to grill you for one reason or another. I mean, I'm pretty sure you can get out of it, say you've already got plans because it's short notice, and Dad's got to understand that, right?" Stiles babbles.

"What time?" Derek asks.

"Oh, um," Stiles says. "Quarter to six?"

"I'll be there," Derek says seriously.

Stiles nods, smiles again, and goes to find Deaton. He's got a mystery to solve. He's curious as to why Bran thought this was so important. He wants to know _who_ is trapped, why, and what they have to do with _him_.

He's about to find out.

"Just listen to my voice and I'll guide you down. Or up, as you might think of it as," Deaton says, and Stiles nods.

Deaton begins the meditation and Stiles finds himself slipping under (or over) faster than the last time.

He opens his eyes when he hears, _Stiles, look at me._

This time he isn't in a clearing, but it's more like a pure white room. The mist is still there, though, so thick he can't see the floor.

Maybe there is no floor. Maybe he's walking on clouds.

_Stiles._

He looks around and sees a spirit. She's much more corporeal looking than Dana, the minor spirit he met during his last trip to the spirit world. "Hi," he says.

_It's good that we're finally meeting,_ she says. _I'm Em. I'm your guardian spirit._

"My _personal_ guardian spirit?" Stiles asks. No lie, he's a little excited, not to mention awed.

_You can call me your angel if you wish_ , she says with a smile. _I don't mind._

Stiles takes a deep breath. It's weird he can do that, since this isn't his actual body and he's on a different plane, but whatever. "Bran told me I had to meet someone..." He trails off, not wanting to offend Em by hurrying, but needing to know.

Em nods. _It's good you're finally here. He's been waiting for your help for some time._

"Who is it? How do I help?" Stiles asks.

Em holds out a hand and Stiles takes it. There's a flash and then...

Then he's looking into familiar brown eyes. "What the hell?" Stiles says, and stumbles back away from the child.

_This is you_ , Em tells him, and he looks at her with wide eyes.

"This is a kid. And yeah, he looks like me, but..." Stiles says.

"I'm trapped," little Stiles says. "Will you help me get home?"

"I don't understand," Stiles says, looking at Em again, hoping for an explanation.

_To understand, you must know what happened to cause the split_ , Em says patiently.

"You mean the dimension hopping?" Stiles asks. "My two realities?"

_Only one of the worlds you experience is your own_ , Em tells him.

Stiles tamps down on his panic. "Which is which?"

_I cannot say. You must learn this on your own._

"How did it happen?" Stiles asks, looking at the little boy. It's definitely him, or the him before the accident. Floppy hair and all.

_You were dying, and reached out instinctively with your magic for a way to stay alive_ , Em says slowly. _You found similar magic, and drew it to yourself. You took his energy and made it your own. Without the energy to live, he became trapped in the spirit world._

"And I got stuck living his life as well as my own?" Stiles asks. He blinks. He feels like his world is crumbling.

"Are you going to help me go back?" little Stiles asks.

Stiles swallows thickly and looks away from those pleading eyes. "What if I don't?" he asks Em.

Em shrugs. _Then you'll go on as you have._

That would be the easiest course of action. Inaction. 

_But you'll always know the price_ , Em says sternly, nodding to little Stiles. _Imagine if it had been you. It was only chance that you were the one allowed to live in the world and he was trapped._

"Shit," Stiles says, looking at the curling mist, the walls, anywhere but at the child he could have been. "How... how would I..."

_You'll need to find a way to transfer half your magic and energy to him_ , Em says. 

Stiles nods. "Okay. I'll talk to Deaton, tell him everything, see if we can figure it out." He thinks about the Alpha pack and Peter-the-Alpha, and how much weaker he would be at half power. "It'll have to wait, though. At least two weeks."

Em nods. _I know._

"Okay. I'm ready to wake up now," Stiles says.

Little Stiles's eyes are on him. He looks lost and sad, and Stiles realizes he hasn't had his mom or dad in six years.

"Wait," he says, and walks up to little Stiles. He opens his arms. "Six years without a Stilinski hug?"

The little boy clings him him and Stiles doesn't know how this will work, how a little boy can go back to his own reality where Stiles has been. He makes a mental note to ask Deaton about memory exchange. No, not exchange, because he never wants to forget. Sharing, maybe?

Little Stiles lets go after a few long minutes, and Stiles can't help but ruffle his hair. "I sure was cute."

_It's time to go_ , Em says, and reaches out. She touches his forehead and he's falling down, back to reality. Or at least one of them.

* * *

He doesn't wake up where he thought he would. When he checks his bracelet, he sees that it's the chunky one, which means this is the other Beacon Hills, and that he's sharing Derek's bed. 

"You do that a lot," Derek mumbles.

"Hmm?"

"You look at your cuff. When you wake up, especially," Derek says. He brushes his lips against Stiles's temple.

"It's a memorial bracelet," Stiles says. "It helps me remember." It helps him keep track of just where in the universe he is. Or the multiverse.

Derek wraps his arms tight around him and says, "I understand."

He really, really doesn't.

"Another magic lesson today?" Derek asks.

Stiles nods. He's got three weeks — a week and a half in each reality — to learn as much as he can, so that he can help defeat the Alpha pack. And then he's got to focus on...

He's not thinking of that yet. 

"What's wrong?" Derek asks.

"Change is coming," Stiles says, intentionally cryptic and probably super annoying, and kisses Derek properly.

They don't get out of bed for another hour.

* * *

"Are you going to tell me about your spirit walk?" Deaton asks at the end of their lesson. "You've been uncharacteristically quiet."

Stiles tenses up. "I found out why I jump from one reality to the next."

Deaton goes still and looks curious. "You don't seem very happy about that."

Stiles tells him, in halting words, what happened in the spirit world. When he's done, Deaton is left blinking at him. 

"And you say you don't know which world is yours?" Deaton asks.

Stiles shakes his head. "You wouldn't happen to have any ideas on how to find out, would you?"

"I'm afraid not," Deaton says. "But I may have a way to end this."

"You mean, to give him half of my magic? My energy or whatever?" Stiles asks.

Deaton nods. "It's not that difficult."

Stiles's hands are fists at his side. "I have to see this thing with the Alpha pack through first. If I have half my magic, I won't be able to fight."

"How long do you have?" Deaton asks.

"Until the full moon. Think you can teach me enough by then?" Stiles asks hopefully.

Deaton frowns. "That's not enough time."

"Don't forget it's double time for me," Stiles says. "So it's more like three weeks, not a week and change."

"That might be enough time," Deaton says.

Stiles clenches his jaw. "It _has_ to be enough time."

"We'll work on ways to make your friends stronger, too. So that the betas can fight against the Alphas on a more even playing field," Deaton muses.

"That sounds great," Stiles says. It's something Derek can use against Peter, too.

"No more today, though. Go home, get some rest," Deaton says.

"Okay," Stiles says with a sigh, even though he'd much rather stay and learn. At least he has Derek to go home to.

* * *

"He's waking up," Scott says, and Stiles blinks at him

He checks his bracelet, then looks back at Scott. "Hey. You're healed."

Scott makes a face. "Mostly."

"You look a lot better than you did when they first found you," Stiles says, sitting up.

"Hey, take it easy," Scott says worriedly.

"Why?" Stiles asks.

Derek clears his throat and Stiles looks over at him. He hadn't realized he was there. 

"You've been out for awhile," Scott says.

Stiles nods. "Right. The spirit walk must have taken a lot out of me. Well, I'm fine now." He swings his legs over and places his feet on the floor. 

"Don't be an idiot and try to stand up," Derek says. "Just stay right there and I'll call Deaton."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "I feel fine," he says, and stands. He does feel a little dizzy, but he focuses on keeping his feet under him and his head on top where it belongs. "See? No magical shamans-slash-veterinarians required."

Then he sways and Derek catches him. It's embarrassing but Derek holds him against his chest and that's nice. That's familiar and comforting. 

"Sit," Dereks says.

Stiles sits, though he does roll his eyes. Derek looks close at his face. Stiles blushes and finally pushes him away, a hand to his face. "Quit that."

"We were really worried," Scott says, looking between Derek and Stiles with a confused expression.

"I just need something to eat. It's probably my blood sugar or something," Stiles says.

Derek and Scott practically fall over each other getting to the kitchen. Stiles ignores their instructions to stay put and wanders in there on his own. They set some warmed-over pasta on the table and make him sit and eat every bite. It's kind of gummy, but the taste isn't bad.

"How long was I out?" Stiles asks.

"It's almost noon," Derek says. "You were out all night and morning."

Scott smiles. "Don't worry, man. I covered for you with your dad. But he said to remind you about dinner tonight?"

Oh, right. Dinner with his dad and Derek. "Awesome," Stiles says with a sigh.

He needs to get to the grocery store so there's something good to eat. Maybe he'll make red meat, to put his dad in a better mood. Derek, too.

He finishes his pasta. "That was good. I feel tons better now."

Scott hovers and is obvious about it. Derek does too, only a little more discreet. 

"This has been great, really," Stiles says, rolling his eyes at them both, "But I need to get to the store."

"Not by yourself," Derek says. "I'll go with you."

"I promise not to be fooled by a fake text or to get kidnapped in broad daylight," Stiles snaps.

"Hey! It wasn't my fault," Scott says.

Stiles sighs. "Why can't Scott go with me?"

"Scott's still healing," Derek says. 

"Fine," Stiles says. "We're taking my Jeep."

* * *

Dinner is filled with silences and awkward questions. Stiles's dad starts off by saying, "So, you're still unemployed, I take it?" and it all goes downhill from there.

Derek's jaw gets more and more tense as the evening goes on. Stiles scowls at his steak and attacks it with a knife. Derek won't make eye contact with him, and Stiles blames his father. 

What little hope Stiles has for an eventual happy ending is slowly slipping through his fingers like beach sand.

When dinner is over, Stiles's dad asks, "Is there dessert?"

"No," Stiles says shortly. It's a lie; Stiles made his dad's favorite. He doesn't deserve it, though. Not after treating Derek like this and humiliating them both.

"I thought I saw cherry cobbler on the counter," his dad says mildly. "Why don't you make some coffee and we'll drink that with it?" Then he gives Derek a look like he's only just begun interrogating him. 

In the kitchen, Stiles casts a listening spell. It's simple and only requires a bit of energy. 

"My son is very important to me," his dad is saying.

"Yes, sir," Derek says. Stiles wishes he could see their faces.

"He's informed me that he's mature enough to make his own decisions," his dad says. "Including decisions about sex."

"Sir-"

"I need to know he's not going to get his heart broken too badly," his dad says, and Stiles bites his lip. 

"We aren't like that," Derek says. "We're friends."

"Just friends?" his dad asks, sounding skeptical.

A pause. Then, "I wouldn't say _just_ friends, like it means less. He means- he's important to me, too."

Stiles licks his bottom lip and notices that the coffee pot is almost filled. 

"You aren't unintelligent," his dad says. "You have to have noticed the way he feels about you."

Hot embarrassment floods Stiles's body and he stifles a groan.

"I've noticed," Derek says, quiet even with the spell.

Confirmation makes Stiles swallow back something ugly and painful. If he knows, then why...?

There's silence. Stiles wishes he could see what his father sees, to understand Derek. 

"Are you going to pursue a relationship with my son?" his dad asks.

"No, sir," Derek says, and Stiles feels his heart drop. "I can't- I'm not- not with anyone. Not just Stiles."

"Why is that?" his dad asks, and Stiles wants to ask the same question.

"I'm no good for him," Derek says. "Or anyone, for that matter."

"Hmph," his dad says. "You haven't even thought about it?"

"I can't let myself," Derek says, and it's almost a whisper. Stiles has to strain to make out the words, and then he feels heartbroken all over again.

So that's it. That's the truth. This Derek thinks he's too broken and has too many issues to pursue a relationship with anyone, let alone Stiles.

He wants to dig in, find out what, exactly, is stopping Derek from seeking love. Maybe he can find out in the other reality.

But it won't matter. This Derek sounds perfectly stern on the issue.

Stiles fixes bowls of cobbler and mugs of decaf, then cancels the listening spell before he enters the dining room again. He puts on a smile and tries to remember that this Derek is his friend, and their relationship has been hard won. It's not 'just' friends. It means more than that, even Derek thinks so.

So Stiles will be his friend, and will continue to have his back, and pine away in solitude. So be it.

* * *

When he wakes in the other reality, he clings to Derek. In fact, clinging to Derek-his-mate is what gets him through the next three weeks of time, when he's not learning magic at a frantic pace, reassuring Derek-not-his-mate, dealing with a doubting Deaton, and pushing the bad 'what if' thoughts out of his head.

(Because what if this one isn't the right reality? What if he has to give up his mom, his dad, Derek, Scott, the pack...)

"You're not okay," Derek says one night, and Stiles can't break, it's too soon, he has to keep going. "Can you tell me yet?"

And Stiles isn't sure now if he can keep his promise to tell his secret. "I love you," he whispers instead.

* * *

The full moon comes, and in the distance the pack hears howls.

"Are you sure about this?" Derek asks just as Stiles is finishing up the last rune on his bare skin. War paint.

Stiles looks Derek in the eyes and nods. He has solid belief in his love for the pack. For Derek. That'll get him through the night. He wants to kiss him for good luck, or tell him he loves him just in case someone doesn't make it. He does neither, of course. If this is the end, then he'll leave it unspoken between them.

As they walk further into the forest, Stiles sees a stag out of the corner of his eye, just standing there in the moonlight. He smiles. The forest is their ally.

It's time for the final preparation. The clearing is only steps away. Stiles goes to each of the betas and chants, his hand on their foreheads one at a time. He imbues them with the temporary strength of the moon, the strength of an Alpha to each of them.

Boyd grunts as the power floods through him. Erica growls, sounding happy. Isaac takes two deep breaths and nearly loses his balance, but then he stands tall again. Scott frowns when the power takes him, and he nods at Stiles. Yes. It worked.

Stiles walks into the clearing, the others behind him, and meets the Alpha pack head-on. He wishes he had a spell for Derek, but Derek is a born wolf, and a strong Alpha. Hopefully that will mean something.

"What's this? Your pet human doing magic tricks?" one of the Alphas taunts.

There are only four of them. "You're outnumbered," Stiles says in wonder. "Unless you have more party guests on the way..."

One of the four steps forward. "We're Alphas. You're the ones who are outnumbered. You think your scrawny pack and a few workings will prevail?"

But Stiles has faith. He's about to shoot back with an answer, something sarcastic and cutting, but a hand to his shoulder stops him. 

"Not now," Derek says quietly, and Stiles lowers his eyes. Deference to his Alpha, at least in front of another pack. He steps away, to the back of the pack where he can keep watch over everything. Derek is standing tall. "We're here."

"So you are," the Alpha in the forefront says. "We'll make this quick."

And then there's sudden movement and snarls and the sick sound of breaking bones and tearing flesh as the wolves meet in the middle of the clearing.

Stiles isn't going to let the werewolves have all the fun.

He casts the spell he's worked on for weeks, the one that slows time, or rather speeds his own perceptions and actions. It's just in time too, because one of the Alphas is heading toward him, claws and fangs at the ready. Stiles neatly sidesteps and comes up behind her, slitting her throat with the spelled knife Deaton gave him the day before. 

He can't think of the fact that he just killed someone, even if it was in defense of himself and his pack. He'll worry about his mental health later. 

The others are wearing down. Even with Alpha power, they aren't _used_ to it, and so they don't know how to wield it properly. If only they'd had more time. 

Isaac goes down with a pained scream and Derek roars, his clothes splitting off him as he shifts to his Alpha form.

There are only three Alphas left. Against Derek, three betas-turned-Alphas, and Stiles. The odds are still in their favor.

Derek kills another one, rips his throat out _with his teeth_ , and Stiles swallows back inappropriate laughter. 

That leaves two.

Stiles and Deaton have told the betas not to deal the death blow to any of the Alphas. Derek or Stiles will have to do it, else _permanent_ Alpha power will change hands, and the betas are too young and inexperienced to deal with that.

One of the Alphas has shifted into a big gray monstrosity, and Stiles doesn't have time to call out a warning to Erica, who is in the Alpha's immediate path.

But the forest is with them. Branches from the closest tree encircle the Alpha and snatch him away from Erica, effectively trapping him. Stiles thinks he should get over there and take care of the Alpha, maybe slit another throat before Bran gets bored. But the forest doesn't slow down or wait, and the Alpha is pulled in two directions until he's split at the waist. It's a messy death, but it's definite. Permanent. 

The pack howls for more blood, the moon thick in their systems along with powerful magic. They circle the remaining Alpha, who snarls like he doesn't know it's already over. He lunges forward.

Derek reaches out with one clawed, furred hand, and pulls the Alpha's heart from his chest. The Alpha drops to the ground like a broken marionette. 

The sudden silence is filled only with harsh pants. The pack looks at each other wonderingly, and Derek's stalks over to Stiles and shoves his snout against his belly and chest.

"Hey, I'm fine," Stiles says, laughing with relief and slight hysteria.

He pushes Derek away and rushes over to Isaac's side to check his pulse. It's there, irregular but strong. He knows the pack can hear it, but it's good to feel for himself.

They made it through, all of them. After all Stiles's preparation, after all the anxiety, it's over.

And now there's not much left to do but go _home_. 

If only Stiles knew where that was.

* * *

"Something's changed," Derek says, stroking Stiles's arm. "You've been on edge for weeks but now it's over. What happened?"

"I figured out how to defeat the Alpha pack," Stiles says. _And Peter, too._

"All we have to do is find them, then," Derek says.

Stiles nods. "I can track them down. With Deaton's help."

"You want to ambush them?" Derek asks.

"The sooner the better," Stiles says. "I just want to get on with my life. I can't do that with this hanging over my head." It's not exactly the truth, but it's not a lie, either.

Derek moves so that he's pressing Stiles down into the bed. "And when it's over, we'll stay in bed for a week."

Stiles laughs and then moans as Derek rocks against him. "God. Kiss me."

He'll never get used to kissing Derek. He won't take it for granted, either. Derek kisses him deeply, intently. " _Mine_ ," he growls, and that never fails to get Stiles going.

"Yes, yes, totally yours," Stiles says, wrapping one leg around Derek's waist. "Are you gonna fuck me or what?"

Derek smirks and kisses him again, hot, wet, and messy. It's perfect.

"Don't ever stop," Stiles whispers breathlessly. "I want us to always be like this."

Derek doesn't stop until they're both sweaty and satisfied, covered in jizz. "I love you," Derek says, finally, and Stiles closes his eyes and clings.

* * *

"So what's keeping you from fixing the split?" Deaton asks Stiles.

"Pretty sure I've told you," Stiles says. "There's the other Alpha pack to deal with, and Peter."

"But you're free and clear in this reality?" Deaton asks.

Stiles nods. 

"Have you thought of the effect killing Peter will have on your other Derek?" Deaton asks gently.

Stiles... hasn't. He shakes his head. 

"I want you to talk to someone," Deaton says. "She knows about the supernatural and can help you sort through your feelings."

"I've talked to her at school," Stiles says. "She didn't help much."

"You probably weren't completely honest with her," Deaton says.

"Well, I didn't tell her about werewolves, that's for sure," Stiles says.

"I'm not saying you need her help yet," Deaton says. "But maybe, after the split is healed, you might need to deal with your loss."

Stiles has been trying not to think of his upcoming loss. It doesn't matter which 'verse is actually his, he's going to end up losing a lot. A parent, a friend, a lover, maybe. Half his magic, certainly.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "What were you saying about Derek and Peter?"

"You're assuming Derek will want to kill his last remaining family member," Deaton says. 

"He did it once already," Stiles points out. "And he does want to. Peter killed Laura in cold blood, then lied about it. Built his entire pack up around lies. He can't be allowed to do that."

"Think about it, Stiles. How is this Derek different from the Derek who's your mate?" Deaton asks. "And how much of that is a direct result of having to kill the last person he trusted?"

"This Derek is more cautious," Stiles says. This Derek won't even try to have a relationship because he thinks he's too fucked up. 

Oh.

"But what else can I do?" Stiles asks. "I've already told him what Peter did and he's out for blood."

"I don't have the answers," Deaton says slowly. "I'm just giving you food for thought."

"Thanks," Stiles says sarcastically. "Just what I needed. More to worry about."

"You're the one who decided to take responsibility for these packs. Your actions affect them on many levels now," Deaton says.

"Just give me Ms. Morrell's number and I'll set up some kind of meeting or... session," Stiles says. He doesn't want to, but he needs to figure some things out, and Deaton is no help at all.

* * *

One morning, Stiles wakes up in their shared bed and Derek isn't there. It's odd, because Derek is always there. Stiles rolls out of bed after checking his cuff and pulls on a pair of jeans and one of Derek's henleys. The more Stiles smells like Derek, the more Derek likes it.

He turns on his phone and checks his messages. There's four from his mom, wishing him well on his trip and missing him. And missing him. And sounding worried. 

The other message in his voicemail is Scott, asking when they're getting together to hang out.

He calls his mom back first. He reassures her, promises he hasn't run off with a cult, and says he'll be back up in Portland soon and he has someone he wants her to meet. She makes an 'ah' sound and teases him about it until Stiles tells her Derek's name. He hears footsteps on the stairs and says he has to go.

He's expecting to see Derek, but it's Peter who enters the room without so much as a by-your-leave. 

"Where's Derek?" Stiles asks.

"Busy," Peter says. "I wanted to talk to you."

Stiles swallows. "Oh?"

"You're something of an oddity, Stiles," Peter says.

"Thanks," Stiles says drily.

"I can't quite put my finger on what makes you unique, however. But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about," Peter says.

"So talk," Stiles says.

Peter stalks closer, looking mildly menacing. Great. "I've heard bits and pieces of your conversations with my nephew."

Stiles feels his eyes widen. "What? That's... nothing good ever comes of eavesdropping, that's what Mom always says."

"You have the Sight, or something like it," Peter presses.

"Sort of," Stiles says.

Peter steps closer. "You know things about me. Things I would have rather kept to myself."

"Derek deserved to know," Stiles says. "You've been lying to him. You're his Alpha; you aren't supposed to do that."

"I am when it's for the good of the pack," Peter snarls.

Stiles's heart is pounding with fear now. He lifts his hand to cast a spell but Peter grabs it, twists, and does something painful to Stiles's wrist. 

"Holy shit, you- I think you _broke_ it," Stiles gasps. His fear ratchets up a few more notches.

"I'll do more than that," Peter says mildly, as if he hasn't just _broken Stiles's wrist._

"You're fucking crazy," Stiles says, cradling his hand against his chest. "What do you want?"

"Leave town. Now," Peter orders.

"I'm not leaving my _mate_!" Stiles says. His wrist is throbbing.

"You're human. The separation will do nothing to you," Peter says flippantly.

"I can't do that to Derek," Stiles says. "Where _is_ he?"

"I sent him out of town on a little errand. He thinks he's buying magic supplies for you, isn't that sweet?" Peter says.

"You're twisted," Stiles says. 

"I'm protecting my pack," Peter says.

"You aren't protecting Derek," Stiles says. "You can't just get rid of his mate and expect him to be okay!"

"He won't die," Peter says.

No, he'll only wish he had. Stiles knows he has to get out of there, but there's no way he's leaving town. He can go to Deaton's, maybe.

"I'll escort you to your Jeep," Peter says. "I suggest you get out of the state as fast as you can, or I'll set the whole pack after you."

"With more lies?" Stiles asks bitterly.

"Needs must," Peter says calmly.

Stiles doesn't understand why Peter hasn't just killed him — possibly because it would hurt Derek irreparably. He throws things into a bag with his good hand, checking for one particular item, making sure it's accessible, and tromps down the stairs. He doesn't know how he's going to drive with one hand. Carefully, he supposes.

He can cast with his other hand, though. He's practiced on Deaton. Not a lot, but some. His back is to Peter; he can't see what he's doing with his hands. 

He casts his favorite slow-mo spell and slips his spelled knife out of his bag. He turns on Peter, not knowing if he's fast enough but having to try.

The blade sinks into Peter's throat and it only takes a short flick-

Peter's fast, too. His hands are claws and he's reaching for Stiles's belly-

Stiles brings the knife hard against Peter's throat and he dies, stumbling forward-

Claws go lax, but not before they've sunk into Stiles's stomach and he's pitching backward on the stairs, crying out in pain.

* * *

He gasps into the other reality, clutching at his stomach.

"Bad dream?" Derek asks from beside him. Stiles checks his wrist, sees the thin memorial bracelet, and looks around at his surroundings. He's in Derek's house, he must have fallen asleep on the couch. He doesn't remember what he was doing the last time he was in this reality. Watching a movie, maybe?

"What time is it?" Stiles asks around a yawn. He feels a phantom ache in his wrist and belly. He wishes there was a way to figure out what's happening in the other reality. He could be bleeding out at the foot of the stairs, and with Peter dead, the pack would not be that friendly toward him, would they?

"Midnight," Derek says. "Do you need to get home?"

"No," Stiles says. "Dad's still working on training the new deputies."

"When will he be home?" Derek asks.

Stiles shrugs. "Seven?"

"You should go home and sleep," Derek says. 

"It's safer here," Stiles mumbles, rubbing his face against a couch cushion. 

"What?" Derek asks, sounding confused.

Stiles sighs. "I'd rather be here than in my dreams right now, okay?" It's the closest thing to the truth he can give.

"Do you... want to talk about it? Is it the Alpha pack you're dreaming of?"

"Not really," Stiles lies. "And no, it's not the Alpha pack."

"There aren't any more threats right now," Derek says earnestly. "You're safe. I wouldn't let anything happen to you. You know that, right?"

Stiles sighs. He knows Derek only means he cares about him as a friend and pack member. But it would be so easy to read more into it, if he hadn't heard Derek's confession to his father.

"I know," Stiles says, smiling a little.

"Go home, Stiles. We'll get pizza and watch movies tomorrow night, if you want," Derek says.

Stiles sighs again and gets up. He puts his shoes back on — Derek must have taken them off when he fell asleep — and heads out the door.

At home, he worries and frets and paces for awhile before he gets into bed. He doesn't know what he'll find on the other side.

* * *

"Open your eyes, baby," Derek is saying, sounding frantic.

"Maybe you should give him the bite," Erica says. That's Erica, right? Why is she trying to help?

Not that the bite would help. At all. 

"It'll kill me," Stiles croaks. He opens his eyes and sees Derek's red-tinged ones staring back at him worriedly. "Oh, hey. Alpha eyes."

"Maybe we should take him the the hospital," Isaac says. "He's lost a lot of blood."

"Deaton," Stiles says. "Call Deaton."

He can't help but pass out again.

* * *

He wakes up early in the morning and decides to make his dad breakfast again. It's a Saturday, which usually means a full day of magic lessons with Deaton, but today he's going to see Ms. Morrell.

When he gets to her house, he doesn't know what to expect. But she leads him into her living room and offers him a seat. 

"I haven't done this in awhile," Stiles says.

"This?"

"Therapy," Stiles says. "When my mom died, Dad sent me to someone. I had to lie a lot."

"That's this reality. And you had to lie because you hadn't really lost her, had you?" Ms. Morrell says.

"You catch on quick," Stiles says. He squeezes his wrist. "I'm hurt in the other reality right now."

"How did that happen?" she asks.

"Tussle with an Alpha werewolf, no biggie," Stiles says with a bitter smile. "I killed him."

"Who was he?" she asks.

"My mate's uncle," Stiles says. "He was separating us."

"Is he the first person you've killed?" Ms. Morrell asks.

Stiles shakes his head. "The first I knew, though."

"You killed him because he was trying to separate you from your mate, is that right?" she asks.

"Not just that," Stiles says. "He was a murderer and a liar. He didn't deserve to be the Alpha."

"Who will be the Alpha now?" she asks.

"Derek," Stiles says. "My mate."

"I see," she says, and Stiles gets the feeling she's judging him. 

"I think it's better this way," he says. "Derek didn't have to kill his last family. He'll not have that weighing on his conscious."

"But you will," Ms. Morrell says.

"I can live with it. He maybe couldn't," Stiles says. "The Derek in this reality had to do it. And he's... he's different from my mate."

"Different how?" she asks. Pushing.

"My mate is more in tune with his wolf, with his instincts. At first I thought he was half-feral, but I think now he's just better adjusted. This Derek is... more human, I guess, but he's broken more. He would never take a mate because he thinks he's no good to anyone. That he's too fucked up. Sorry- _effed_ up."

"And what made one Derek in tune with his wolf and the other Derek more human?" she asks.

"Ultimately? Me. I'm the main difference between the two realities. I wasn't there in my mate's world, so he fell for Peter's lies and... I don't know what happened. Somehow that made him more... wolfy," Stiles says. "I think Peter encouraged it."

"While the biggest difference between the two realities is _you_ , you aren't responsible for the actions and reactions of others."

"But if I'd been there-"

"Then you wouldn't have a mate, would you?" she points out.

Stiles shakes his head. He loves Derek, both of them, but having Derek as his mate in one reality is still amazing. Heady. A miracle.

"I'm going to take Derek to meet my mom," Stiles says, almost shy about it.

Ms. Morrell smiles. "How do you think she'll react?"

"Happy," Stiles says. "She'll be happy for me, and she'll love Derek. I only wish she could meet the Derek in this world. Maybe she'd be able to shake the sad right out of him."

"But soon you have to fix the split, if I understood Alan correctly," she says.

Stiles's smile slips off his face. "Yeah."

"You don't seem happy about it," she prods. "Don't you want to live your life normally again?"

Stiles laughs drily. "My life will never be normal."

She tilts her head. "Maybe."

"I've got stuff to do in the other reality first," Stiles says.

"I think you're putting off the inevitable," she says.

"I can't put it off forever," Stiles says, mostly to himself. He sighs. "I think I've had enough therapy for the day."

"Good luck, with what you have to do," she says. "All of it."

* * *

He goes home and takes a nap. He wakes in his bed in the other reality, Derek and Deaton looming over him.

"Ugh. Pain. Everywhere," Stiles rasps.

Deaton gets him a glass of water and Derek touches his belly lightly, drawing the pain away. Stiles immediately feels better. He looks at Deaton for a prognosis.

"I have an herb plaster I can put on your stomach, and I've already spelled your wrist," Deaton says.

"Mmm, magic. My favorite form of medicine," Stiles says, feeling a little woozy now that the pain is gone. "When will I be up and back to fighting form?"

Deaton frowns. Derek says, "You almost died, Stiles."

Stiles smiles at him. He feels drugged. It must be the herbs Deaton has already given him. "You called me baby."

Derek shrugs, looking slightly embarrassed, and leans down to kiss Stiles's forehead. "You're going to tell me what happened with Peter."

Deaton clears his throat. "To answer your question, Stiles, you should be on your feet by morning."

"The Alpha pack needs to be dealt with," Stiles mutters.

"Leave them to me," Deaton says. "I can negotiate with them, have them leave the territory for a few years. Maybe for good, if they find somewhere else to settle."

"You don't know what they're like," Stiles says.

"They haven't done anything but marked this territory as a possibility. Kind of like circling an ad for an apartment in the newspaper," Deaton says. 

"And once they're gone..." Stiles says, trailing off because he can't talk about it in front of Derek.

"You'll be healed enough to attempt major magics again, yes," Deaton says.

They're silent after that, Stiles thinking about what this means. He drifts in and out, not quite asleep enough to shift over to the other reality. Deaton applies the plaster on Stiles's stomach, and Derek climbs into bed with him, pressed against his side. He keeps his hand on Stiles's skin, ready to draw out the pain should it start to bother Stiles again.

Stiles looks into Derek's eyes, really looks, and all he sees is gentle affection and love. 

He doesn't want to think what will happen if this is not his reality. He can't lose his mate.

* * *

He wakes from his 'nap' and sighs, happy to at least be in one piece here, then heads over to Derek's.

"Can I use your basement?" he asks. "Gotta talk to my guardian angel."

Derek raises one impressive brow. "Sure."

Stiles flashes him a smile and heads down.

It's not that he can't do this anywhere, of course he can. But he feels safe in Derek's house, and the basement is where he first met Em. It's kind of their place.

It doesn't take much mediation to make contact.

_Hello, Stiles_ , Em says. _Can I help you, or are you just here to chat?_

"I need to figure out which reality is mine," Stiles says without preamble.

_I already told you I don't know that,_ Em says, and at least she sounds sorry about it.

"Okay, but how can I find out?" Stiles asks. "I want to be prepared. I don't like surprises."

_There is nothing you can do to fully prepare yourself for this change, whether you know the outcome ahead of time or not._

"It's not just the change, it's- Okay, if one is my reality, then I lose the entire other world. It doesn't matter which is which, I'm losing a whole other universe! People, places, memories..."

_You will not lose your memories, if the transfer is done correctly,_ Em says.

"Shared memories! Like, Dad won't remember the time me and mom went to that goofy Thai fusion place and knocked over a whole cart of desserts, because it happened after she died!" Stiles says. "And... Derek won't remember the first time I told him I loved him, or the way he rubs my feet without even thinking about it! Scott won't remember me handcuffing him to the-"

_You will make new memories_ , Em says with surety.

"Everyone expects me to give up everything," Stiles says. "And I don't _want_ to."

_It's part of growing up, Stiles._

"What, heartache?"

_Doing the right thing._

Stiles comes out of his state quickly, with Em's words ringing in his ears. He climbs the basement steps and goes straight to his favorite couch.

"Want me to order the pizza?" Derek asks. Then he looks closer. "What's wrong?"

"Growing up sucks," Stiles says.

Derek eyes him, then nods. "Yeah. Yeah, it does."

* * *

"The Alpha pack won't be a problem anymore," Deaton tells them. Stiles sighs and clings to Derek's side. He has to check his bracelet because it feels too surreal. He knows he's not dreaming but maybe he's delirious. The check tells him he's definitely in the other Beacon Hills, the one where Derek is a new Alpha. The one where Stiles killed Peter.

"You're sure?" Stiles asks.

Deaton nods.

There's nothing left standing in the way of correcting the split. Well, maybe one thing.

"Derek, you ready for a road trip?" Stiles asks with a grin.

* * *

"You're taking Derek to meet your mother?" Ms. Morrell asks.

Stiles smiles. "We're in the car right now. I fell asleep. I almost always fall asleep if I'm not driving."

"What do you hope to accomplish with this?" she asks.

"What do you mean? I want people I love to meet each other. It's not that hard to understand," Stiles says.

"Has your father spent any time with the Derek in this reality?" she asks.

"Yeah, that didn't go so good," Stiles says with a wince. 

"Why not?" she asks.

"This Derek is kind of closed off," Stiles says. "Emotionally, I mean."

"How does that make you feel?" she asks.

He groans. "Now you're really sounding like a shrink."

She smiles and waits.

"Ugh. I guess... it makes me sad? Because I love him. I think he deserves everything good in life, and he's been dealt the sh- crappiest hand ever. "

"You do love him? Are you sure you aren't mixing up your feelings for the other Derek with this one?" she asks.

"I loved this Derek first," Stiles says. He swallows hard. "But he doesn't want me, so." He shrugs.

"He doesn't want you or he thinks he shouldn't?" she asks.

"It amounts to the same thing, doesn't it?" Stiles says.

* * *

"We're here," Derek says, shaking Stiles awake.

Stiles looks at the house they're parked in front of and smiles. "Yep. C'mon."

They hold hands as they walk up to the door, which is thrown open before they get to it.

"Stiles!" his mom says, and quickly envelops him in a hug. "And Derek?" she asks as she pulls back.

Derek nods, looking almost shy.

Stiles's mom throws an arm around Derek and drags him close, then reaches out and pulls Stiles into the hug.

Stiles closes his eyes and says, "I love you so much." He doesn't know which of them he's talking to. He's just overcome with emotion.

"Well, come on in. You've got to be hungry, both of you," she says.

"Starving," Stiles says with a grin.

His mom serves beef stroganoff and spinach salad, and she and Stiles jabber back and forth as they eat. Derek doesn't seem to mind all the talking. He watches them both with something like awe on his face.

"So, how did you two meet?" Stiles's mom asks. "Where have you _been_?"

"Beacon Hills," Stiles says. 

Stiles's mom goes still. Then she nods. "Did you visit your dad?"

Stiles shoots Derek a small smile when he looks confused. Stiles says, "She means in the cemetery. And no, I... I couldn't go."

"It's okay. Maybe next time," she says.

"I went for a run in the woods and that's where I met Derek," Stiles says. 

"Was it love at first sight?" she teases, but she believes in that sort of thing.

"Close," Stiles says, hedging.

Stiles's mom smiles and reaches over to squeeze his hand. "Your dad would've loved him. After he threatened him with his gun."

Derek looks alarmed but Stiles just laughs. "I think you're right about the gun thing, at least."

"Stiles," she says seriously. "It's obvious he loves you. Your father would have accepted that, and loved him for it. Just like I do."

Derek is flushing and staring down at his empty plate like smears of food hold the secrets of the universe. "I do love him." He looks up, and his serious frown turns into a small smile. "I really do."

Stiles feels a thrill at the words, just like always.

* * *

"I think I should set the realities right now," Stiles tells Deaton. In the other reality, he's asleep in Derek's arms on his mom's pull-out couch. It's bigger than the bed in his own room, and he wasn't about to sleep by himself with Derek so close.

"You're ready?" Deaton asks.

"Not really, but I don't think I'll ever be," Stiles admits.

"And you mean 'now' as in..."

"Right now," Stiles says. "Before I chicken out."

"The ritual is simple, just a dividing of your energies and giving it up to the spirit world, where the other you is trapped," Deaton reminds him.

"I know. Let's get on with it," Stiles says, and enters Deaton's circle.

"You remember your part of the chant?" Deaton asks. "To properly keep your memories but share them with the other you?"

Stiles nods. "C'mon. Let's do this."

"Close your eyes," Deaton warns. "It'll get bright in here."

They both chant and complete the ritual, and when it's finally done, Stiles crumples to the floor.

* * *

He sees his other self, grown as tall as he is now, so that they are mirror images. 

"Thank you," the other him says. "And I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" Stiles asks, but then he's talking to himself. There's blackness all around, an endless void, and he's the only one left. "What are you sorry for?" he yells, and only gets an echo as an answer.

* * *

"Stiles."

He groans. His head is throbbing.

"Stiles, wake up."

He opens his eyes and sees Deaton looking at him with a strange expression on his face.

"What happened? Did it work?" Stiles asks.

"Which Stiles are you?" Deaton asks mildly, as if this is an everyday question.

Stiles rolls his eyes. "The same one who was here for the ritual. I'm not- Wait, does that mean it worked?"

"If your aura is anything to go by, I'd say yes," Deaton says. 

Stiles checks his memorial bracelet. It's thin. Delicate. It means his mom is dead. He's landed in the reality where he doesn't have a mom. For good.

Tears prick his eyelids. "Shit."

Deaton puts a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

He needs Derek. He needs-

He needs the Derek who loves him, who will hold him and make this okay. But he doesn't have him, either. "Oh, God."

"Stiles," Deaton says gently. "Perhaps you should go home. Can you drive?"

He's shaky all over and he feels weak. He can feel the loss of magic. Half of it is gone. Will he even be able to help the pack anymore?

"I don't think so," Stiles says. "I can walk home, it's okay."

"You're obviously not okay," Deaton says kindly.

Stiles snorts. Anger wells up suddenly, and he says, "It's not fair. It's not _fair_!"

"If you'd like, I could take you to Ms. Morrell's," Deaton says.

The sound Stiles makes is an ugly laugh. "I don't need _her_ , I need my mate."

Short silence. Then, "I could call Derek to get you."

Stiles shudders. He doesn't think he can bear to see this Derek, not after losing his own. "No. I'll walk home."

He does.

When he gets to his room, he pulls his shoes and jeans off and collapses into bed. _Maybe_ , he thinks. _Maybe if I fall asleep here I'll wake up there. With Derek, at Mom's._

He doesn't. He dreams, instead. He dreams of Derek, but it's a twisted version of him Stiles has never met. He dreams of the crash, of his parents both dying and leaving him alone. He dreams of Jackson screaming, of Isaac being killed by the Alphas. He dreams of Peter ripping his throat out. He dreams and dreams until he's sweating and panting and still he can't wake up until they release him back into reality.

* * *

For two weeks, he only leaves his room to go to the bathroom and to make a quick sandwich or Hot Pocket. 

He turns his phone off, and when Scott shows up asking what's wrong, why hasn't he been at any pack meetings, Stiles tells him he had an accident with his magic and that he needs some time away from everything.

He's not sure if Scott believes him, or how much Deaton has told him. But he goes, and Stiles crawls back into bed, wishing there was a magic spell that took away grief and heartache.

He hasn't slept in years, so now he figures he's making up for it. He dreams, but it's not always as twisted and dark as those first ones. Sometimes he has good dreams. Sometimes he dreams of his Derek holding him close, whispering, _I love you, Stiles._

When he wakes from those dreams, he cries. He cries and screams into his pillow and wishes for a way out of this reality. He doesn't want to live in a world where he's not allowed to touch Derek or love him or be by his side.

Derek was his _mate_. He thought he had forever with him.

The doorbell rings downstairs and Stiles ignores it. Turns over, facing the wall. His dad is home, he'll get it.

Outside his door he hears his dad say, "Maybe you can get him out of this."

Then there's a soft knock. Scott wouldn't knock, so it's got to be one of the other wolves.

"Just go away," Stiles mutters, knowing they will be able to hear.

The door opens and then closes with a click. Someone walks closer, and Stiles can smell the leather of their jacket. It's smells like-

Stiles turns over and stares at Derek. He looks worried and open and vulnerable in a way Stiles has rarely seen.

"You're going to talk to me," Derek says quietly.

It hurts to look at him. Stiles's eyes feel wet suddenly, and he buries his face in the pillow.

Then Derek is moving closer, placing a hand on Stiles's back. Stiles shivers and _aches_. It's so much worse now that he knows what it's like to be allowed to love Derek. It's like a piece of himself is missing.

"Scott said you told him you had a magical accident," Derek says.

Stiles picks up his head. "Not an accident," he mutters.

"Tell me what's wrong," Derek says. "You smell like misery and brokenness."

Stiles laughs softly and it hurts his chest.

"I can't help you unless you tell me," Derek says.

"There's no helping me," Stiles says. "I did the right thing and I lost everything."

"Not everything," Derek says, rubbing his back. "You have the pack. Me."

Stiles wants to sob. "I don't, though. I don't have you."

Derek takes a deep breath. "I know you- I mean, if you think you-"

"Don't break anything," Stiles mutters. "I'm in love with you, Derek. Okay?"

"Stiles..." Derek says, looking so fucking _sad_. "Tell me what happened."

"I can't tell you," Stiles whispers. For one, Derek will think he's crazy. For another, he might feel responsible for Stiles's broken heart, and it's not his fault, not really.

"Okay. Will you at least get out of bed and come to the house?" Derek says. "We can order your favorite pizza and watch whatever you want. Even shitty werewolf movies."

"I don't think I can be around you right now," Stiles says.

"What did I do?" Derek asks.

Stiles sits up and leans in close to Derek. "Tell me what I smell like to you."

Derek holds himself very still. "Like-" he says, and then he inhales deeply. His eyes are closed. He shakes his head and pulls away. "Like you haven't showered in four days."

"Oh, fuck you," Stiles mumbles, quirking a smile.

"What does how you smell have anything to do with it?" Derek asks.

"I was just curious." His Derek always said he smelled like _his_ and like _mate_.

"Please get out of bed. Get out of this room," Derek says.

"I'll try," Stiles says. "There's... someone I can talk to. Maybe I'll go see her." At Derek's frown, he clarifies. "A therapist."

Derek looks relieved. "That might be good for you."

He lets himself out. Stiles rolls out of bed and takes a shower.

* * *

Ms. Morrell has a way of making him open up until he's raw and vulnerable. He talks. He talks until he feels empty, until he can't cry anymore, until his eyes are as sore as his throat and it still isn't enough.

"It's not like we broke up," Stiles says. "It's like he's _dead_."

Ms. Morrell looks suitably sympathetic. "What was it like to see this reality's Derek? Have your feelings changed for him?"

Stiles shakes his head. "I love him. Maybe more than ever, because I know how good we could be together, how _happy_ we could be. But that makes it hurt even worse."

"I see," she says, but Stiles doesn't think she understands. Who could? "So your plan is to stay away from Derek indefinitely?"

"...No?" Stiles says guiltily. "I know I'll have to see him sometimes, but-"

" _Stiles_ ," she says sternly. "Can you really take that from him?"

Stiles blinks. "What do you mean?"

"You've told me yourself how much time it took for Derek to trust you. To be your friend and not just a reluctant ally. He opened his home to you, his life. How do you think he would feel, after making himself vulnerable that way, if you just act like he no longer means anything?" 

"He doesn't love me," Stiles mutters petulantly, but he hears exactly what she's saying and he knows the truth. He can't do this to Derek. Derek's lost too much already.

She gives him a narrow look and scribbles something down.

"I thought you always waited until after a session to write things?" Stiles says.

"This session _is_ over. I can't help you with this. You need to talk to Derek," she says.

"I can't tell him the truth," Stiles says.

"Why not?" she asks. Like it's simple. "I know the truth. So does Alan."

"Neither of you is- _was_ my mate," Stiles says. "Derek will- I don't know what, exactly, but he won't take it right. He'll-"

"You can't control someone else's feelings or actions," Ms. Morrell says. "All you can do is be honest and open."

"I don't want to hurt him, either," Stiles says. 

"You think knowing about his other self might hurt him, but have you thought it might help him heal?" she says. "If he knows it's possible to be happy?"

Stiles blinks. He hadn't thought of that. Maybe telling Derek is the best course of action after all.

His phone blips and he looks at the incoming text. It's from Derek.

**come over** it says.

Then, thirty seconds later, **please**.

"I guess I can do it sooner rather than later," Stiles mutters. 

Ms. Morrell smiles at him like she's proud.

* * *

Stiles's heart is pounding when he shows up at Derek's house. Derek lets him in without a word and Stiles walks through to the living room, noticing no one else is around.

"We alone?" Stiles asks.

"I asked the betas to give us some time," Derek says.

"Good. I have something to tell you," Stiles says, sitting on the couch.

Derek sits beside him. "Can I go first?" he asks.

Stiles makes a _go ahead_ gesture and Derek takes a deep breath.

"I want to tell you why I've been... hesitant," Derek says, obviously struggling with the words.

"Oh," Stiles says. "Is this about how I feel about you?"

"It's about how _I_ feel about _you_ ," Derek says.

"I listened when my dad interrogated you that one night after dinner," Stiles admits.

But Derek doesn't look relieved. He looks dismayed. "I'm... sorry."

Stiles shrugs it off. "It hurt, but I guess knowing is better than false hope." He's not sure if he's telling a lie or not. 

Derek looks down. "I've had time to think since then. Since the other day when I came over."

"What are you saying?" Stiles asks.

"I thought I wasn't capable of what you want," Derek says. 

Stiles catches his breath. "Thought? Past tense?"

Derek frowns. "I still don't think I'm-" he breaks off, looking frustrated. "But I want to try. To be good for you."

Stiles doesn't tell him he knows he'll be good. Derek probably won't believe him, at least not yet. He takes Derek's hand in his own and squeezes. "I have something to tell you."

Derek frowns and nods. "Okay."

So Stiles tells him everything, starting with the accident, ending in his depression of the past weeks. He doesn't cry, not even when he explains it's like losing his mom for the first time.

"I'm sorry," Derek says. "I know that's inadequate for when you've lost someone..." He trails off, making a vague hand gesture. It's sweet and so _human_.

"She loved you," Stiles says. "She would have loved this you, too."

"I wish I could have met her," Derek says quietly. "And I wish I could be as... open, I guess. As him. The other me." He looks troubled by something, and Stiles squeezes his hand.

"Hey, no. I fell in love with _you_ ," Stiles tells him. "Before I ever met him, before we got together, I loved _you_."

Derek shakes his head, looking disbelieving. Like he might ask _how?_ at any moment.

Stiles cups Derek's jaw and tilts his head up so that Derek has no choice but to look his way. He looks hopeful and vulnerable and Stiles loves him even more just for that. Stiles smiles just a little, and says, "Can we stop talking about our feelings so much now and just make out?"

Even then, the kiss takes Stiles by surprise. Derek moves quick and kisses him thoroughly, like a man starving for it. It's not familiar. It's nothing like what he shared with the other Derek. This is new, unique, and it takes Stiles's breath. It's like being kissed for the first time, and Stiles revels in it.

Finally, when Stiles is panting against Derek's mouth, his lips tingling and swollen, Derek pulls away. Stiles whimpers at the loss and tries moving in close again but Derek says, "I want to do this right."

Stiles opens his eyes. "What do you mean?" he asks, still breathless.

"We can't rush this," Derek says. "Especially after everything you've been through."

Stiles thinks of how quickly he and the other Derek moved to mates and realizes he doesn't want that. Derek is right. This Derek is more human, and they should have a more human relationship. "Okay. We'll take it slow."

Derek smiles a little, just a quirk of his mouth. It makes Stiles's heart flip.

"Are you hungry?" Derek asks.

"I could eat," Stiles says.

"Okay. Do you want to go out?" Derek says.

Stiles raises his eyebrows. "We're going on a dinner date?"

Derek looks unsure. "Yeah? If you want."

"I want," Stiles says, and this time when he leans in, Derek meets him halfway. The kiss is short, simple, and promises nothing but good things.

* * *

**6 months later**

 

"You're late," Derek says, and Stiles is nodding and breezing through the house on his way to the basement. Derek catches him before he faceplants into the floor, his face a mix of laughter and concern.

He's late because he was learning a new ward with Deaton and lost track of time. It takes longer these days, much longer to master new spells and workings. He missed the extra magic at first, but now he's mostly used to it. 

He gives Derek a kiss and spins away, knowing the other Stiles is already waiting for him.

Sinking into meditation is easy, as easy as it's ever been. The spirit world is much as it always is, all swirly mist and impossibilities. 

"I was starting to think you weren't coming," the other Stiles says.

"I figured Em would have told you I'd be late," Stiles says. 

The other Stiles shakes his head. "She did, but it's still been awhile. Time moves crazy weird in here, you know."

They sit cross-legged, facing each other. Stiles says, "How's Mom?"

"Good. Settling in to Beacon Hills again pretty well. She's teaching again and says she loves it," the other Stiles says.

Stiles nods, smiling a little. "Dad's dating," he says.

"What?"

"You heard me," Stiles says. "It was weird at first, but... I'm happy for him."

"Who's he dating?" the other Stiles asks. "Please tell me it isn't Scott's mom."

"There's nothing wrong with Scott's mom," Stiles says. But he knows it'd be weird for his dad to date his best friend's mother. "No, it's an assistant district attorney. She's been spending a lot of time in Beacon County."

They chat about her for a little while, then the other Stiles says, "How's your Derek?"

Stiles smiles. "He's good. I think he's really happy."

"And you?"

"I'm happy, too," Stiles says.

"Don't you miss..." the other Stiles says, but he trails off before finishing.

Stiles answers anyway. "Yeah. I miss him. But I wouldn't trade this for anything." He doesn't have to say how much he loves his Derek.

He doesn't ask about his former mate. It doesn't exactly hurt to think of him now, but he doesn't want to take the chance. He's happy. He's settled. He's learning more and more magic. His pack is protected and he loves them.

Derek loves him. He's working up to saying more, to maybe asking Stiles to be his mate. Stiles is making sure they don't rush anything. It's only been six months. 

Em drifts close to them and says, _It's time to go. You can't spend too much time together here._

They know. "Okay, so. Next month, same time, same place?" Stiles asks.

A nod.

"Take care of him," Stiles says, and the other Stiles smiles.

"You, too."

**Author's Note:**

> there you go. I appreciate kudos and comments, but please 
> 
> *don't ask me to explain anything   
> *don't inquire about a sequel (really really not gonna happen)  
> *don't offer crit, constructive or otherwise
> 
> I'm posting this so I can stop thinking about it, because that uses energy I don't have to spare. also, I'm hoping that by posting this last long lingering doc, I can finally focus on something else for long enough to complete it. 
> 
> you can find me at http://yogi-bogey-box.tumblr.com occasionally. sometimes I am stuck to tumblr like glue and sometimes I ignore it for weeks, but I treasure each new follower. and I never get asks and those are amazing, so if you want to send me one, go for it! :D


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